Blood Ties
by Dirk O'Reilly
Summary: This is the story of two sisters, separated during childhood. Both must try and survive far from home, but both face slavery, mental and physical. My first fanfic, so the first 5 to 10 chapters aren't that good. But it gets better, I promise.
1. Chapter 1

"Remind me why I care." Grausam stared at the rat in front of him. A crash of thunder shook the fortress; Grausam smiled inwardly as his spy jumped.

Spion stared at his trembling footpaws as he spoke. "W-well if the slaves," he gulped, "if they find out about it then they'll probably try to escape there." Grausam made as if to stand but Spion hurriedly added, "Not that'd ever happen, Your Majesty…." Grausam sat and continued to watch Spion as an uncomfortable silence filled the air.

"You think I didn't already realize this? If you were a good spy you'd find out what the slaves are planning." Spion flushed crimson.

"I would have," he started angrily, "but I can't just walk in there, now can I?!"

"There, there, my hot-tempered rat, I will gladly help you out there. I'll simply have you thrown in with the slaves when they come in from work tonight." Grausam chuckled quietly.

Spion looked aghast. "But…but…but…you're going to starve me? And make me do menial labor?"

"It would look that way, my friend, it would look that way. Run along now." Spion angrily stormed to the door, but turned as Grausam addressed him a final time. "And Spion, you'll be out of there faster if you get me the information I want."

As soon as Spion slammed the door, Grausam let his pretense fall. He felt less depressed now that Spion was out of the picture. His son, and second-in-command, Ishmael, was already feeding him a steady stream of information about his slaves's plans. Grausam flexed his claws at the thought of the pain he would inflict upon them as punishment.

They had murdered his wife. Now they would repay his tears twofold with their blood!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Yomi, I can't keep doing this. I'm a terrible liar."

"The secret is to not get caught."

"But I don't have practice at that like you." Ishmael faced Yomi in the semi-darkness. She looked at him, seeing well in the dim light of a guttering torch. He touched her shoulder. "What if you get caught? He'll probably kill you!"

Yomi snorted. "Not unless I get caught _and _he finds Salvia, which is unlikely."

"But if you get caught, it still won't be fun for you." Ishmael frowned. "You know what Grausam's like."

Yomi sighed before replying quietly, "Don't you think I've thought about that? If Salvia's dead, then I'm the only one with Kilarnee blood left from my family." Ishmael looked down at Yomi. Her face looked sad and drawn.

Ishmael said hurriedly, "No, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just worried, is all."

"Offend me?" Yomi's voice barely changed in volume, though she may as well have shrieked at him. "You think you know what my life is like, but you don't. You think you do, but you don't. Don't even think you fool any of us."

Ishmael hung his head. "Don't you think _I_ ever feel ostracized? I don't believe in my father's ways, though I have to act like it, and you and your lot don't accept me either."

"Did you expect us to?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"And then he had the nerve to question whether or not I can take care of myself!" Yomi huddled next to her friend Firedew inside the slave cell. Firedew sighed inwardly, exasperated with Yomi's short temper.

"He just wants what's best for you Yomi."

Yomi stood up angrily. "Well, then he could free us! Instead he sits around and stuffs his stupid face all day with stupid food his slaves cook for him."

Firedew looked up at Yomi. "Think of how he feels though. Sure, he gets to eat as much as he wants, and he doesn't have to work, but he has to beat and abuse slaves against his will."

Yomi's eyes blazed. "Doesn't anyone care how _I _feel?" She stalked off to the other side of the cell. She heard a squeak as she plunked herself down into the corner.

"Who're you?" Yomi glared at the speaker in question, a small gerbil.

"Guess." Yomi was in no mood to talk to anybeast.

"I'm new here," the gerbil said sullenly.

"Remind me why I care."


	2. Chapter 2

"Up on yer paws, ya scummy slaves, or I'll let daylight into yer 'ide."

"There isn't even any daylight yet," Yomi muttered under her breath. All around her fellow slaves moaned themselves into groggy wakefulness. The guard stalked over to her.

"Whad'ya say, slave?"

Yomi composed herself quickly, hiding her anger. "I was just wonderin' when we'd get our food, sir," she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.

The guard leered happily at Yomi's wasted body. "Well, as it turns out, 'Is Majesty thought you lot were gettin' too fat for ya own good, so he's prepared more work fer ya to do, along with cuttin' yer rations." This was followed by another chorus of moaning from the slaves, which was quickly silenced by a crack of the guard's whip. "Now, out to the courtyard, on the double!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Spion growled as he was led into the kitchens by a guard. He stumbled as he tried to take too large of a step and the chains around his footpaws pulled tight. The guard laughed, shoving Spion roughly to the floor. Spion flushed crimson, facing his captor angrily. "Listen Virt, this is only temporary."

"Slaves shouldn't talk to their massers like that." Virt shoved Spion sharply again. "'Urry up and get 'Is Majesty's food."

"I'm serving Grausam?" This earned him a bruising punch to his cheek.

"Naughty, naughty. 'Is name is 'Is Majesty. You'll be wanting to call 'im that, unless yewd like to get yerself a whipping."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ishmael seated himself in front of his father. A small slave appeared and poured both gerbils glasses of wine. Grausam drank deeply. "Drink up, son. You're wasting away." Ishmael normally have felt hot anger boil up inside him, but he was still too stung by Yomi's words to care.

"Of course father," he said wearily.

"Are you sick? You haven't seemed like yourself lately.

Ishmael swallowed hard. "No, just some stress." He took a deep drink of his wine, steadying himself slightly. "It's getting harder and harder to keep up with the slaves' plans."

Grausam smiled. "Well how about thi-who gave you permission to enter?" Grausam's voice did not change in volume, though he may as well have screamed.

Spion glared at Grausam as he opened the door, pushing a laden trolley. "I have your breakfast, _Your Majesty_." The last words dripped with venom.

"Apparently you were not informed of our rules here, slave. Ishmael, I think you need to teach him a little lesson." Ishmael had whirled in surprise when he had heard Spion's voice. He followed the exchange, uncertain. Ishmael stood hesitantly, but proceeded forward, drawing his whip, at a nod from his father.

Spion turned white with fear. Grausam propped the windows open so any passers-by would hear what was to follow. After sitting back down and taking a light sip of his wine, Grausam nodded. "You may begin."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grausam sighed as he glared out at his partially built fortress. Punishing Spion like that was useless; it was the slaves who deserved it. Especially _them_. Oh yes, when he got his claws on both of them….

An idea popped into his head. He ran it over in his mind. A smile formed over his lips. It was the perfect foolproof plan.

Sweeping out of his room and onto the staircase, Grausam made his way into the barracks. Several soldiers were there, off-duty. They jumped to attention as he entered. "Where's Ishmael?"

"Out with the fields overseers, I think, Your Majesty." Grausam left, striding purposefully out into the fields, feeling better than he had since his wife had died. On the outskirts of the field, a mousewife was busy harvesting crops.

"You there!" The mousewife turned, quite startled. "What do you think you're doing, working without supervision?" Grausam stared at her, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed mockingly.

"P-please, Your Majesty," she stuttered, swallowing hard, "I c-can explain."

"Please do," still with a mocking tone.

"Captain Ishmael, he sent me here. He wanted to get more work done, and he s-said he f-figured I couldn't escape, since I'm chained and I have my infant with me."

Grausam glared at her, grinning as she cowered on the ground in submission. "And where is Ishmael now?"

"H-h-he's a-at the main field hut, I think, Your Majesty."

"Well, you seem to be doing a mighty lot of thinking for somebeast that's not allowed to think. Report to my chambers after work tonight."

The mousewife shivered in terror as Grausam practically skipped away. Why was he suddenly so happy?


	3. Chapter 3

"Yomi, can you find something out for me?" Yomi looked briefly up from where she was hiding a small dagger in the infant's shawl. She bent her head back down, finishing a small intricate knot that bound the dagger around the baby's tiny chest.

"What is it?" Yomi was never still, always keeping an ear cocked for approaching guards.

Hefra looked anxiously into Yomi's black eyes. "Grausam caught me out here alone and-

"

"You did tell him what I told you to say, didn't you?"

"Yes Yomi," Hefra said exasperatedly, "exactly as you instructed me. Anyway, Grausam ordered me to report to his chambers after work tonight. Could you find out why?"

"I guess…though I was supposed to actually do some work in the quarry today. Ishmael can only cover for me so long."

"Please?" Hefra hated having to beg a young creature like this.

"Well, all right. I'll need to talk to Ishmael first to make sure won't have to join you after work tonight. I'll find out what Grausam wants as fast as I can though." Yomi dropped onto all fours and bounded quickly off.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Ishmael!" The gerbil looked up as his father entered the cool hut. He bowed respectively as the field overseers with him snapped to attention.

"Would you leave me with my father for a few minutes? Make sure those slaves aren't slacking…but you know what to do if they are." The overseers chuckled cruelly as they left the hut, shutting the door behind them.

Grausam shifted some work detail plans and inset maps, then seated himself on the edge of the table in the center of the hut. His eyes shone over-bright in the dim light. "I have an idea." Grausam's voice was low, but brimming with excitement.

"What?" Ishmael felt worry clench in his stomach.

"You said that _her _sister is somewhere on the East Coast, right?"

"Well, yea, that's where my sources say they think she is."

"And there's no chance they could be wrong?" Grausam stood up quickly, drawing his dagger.

"My sources have the most accurate information of anybeast."

"So, how would it be," Grausam paused to snigger, "if we arranged it so _she _would be the one to play the key role in capturing her sister." He paced around the hut, gesturing with his dagger as he spoke.

"How would that work?" Ishmael furrowed his brow, feeling genuinely concerned.

"Come to my chambers tonight and then you'll see!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"How can you not know what Grausam wants with Hefra?" Yomi glared at Ishmael.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ishmael kept his down, fiddling nervously with a map.

"You're the worst liar ever."

"You're the worst friend ever." Ishmael's voice did not change in volume, though he might as well have been yelling.

Yomi went deep red with anger and embarrassment. "Well, if I ever leave this place, then you'll see how much you need me!" She stormed out of the field hut, growling under her breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Salvia walked out onto the beach, just above the tide line. She could not believe she was actually going to do this. She stared for a few moments at the building that had been her home for so long…forever. No, not forever. She would not need to leave it if she had lived there forever.

Salvia began to walk, grasping the straps of her haversack with her paws. She walked quietly and quickly, careful to leave no pawprints in the sand. In the back of her mind she heard, "Run as fast as you like, but you have no chance of escape."

Salvia turned, catching her breath. The world was so peaceful and still at that moment. _Ha, you were wrong! Look at me now, I'm free; I am FREE! _She started to run, but that honey-coated voice kept up with her, step for step.

"It was a special day. One of those beautiful mornings when you sit alone atop a hill, watching the sun rise and feel it warming your face." Why was it following her?

_A beautiful morning, just like today will be._ Salvia ran harder, trying to dull her thoughts.

"Funny, that's just what you were doing, almost. When you're older, you'll know it was all your fault."

_IT IS NOT! _Salvia's voice screamed inside her head, drowning out the sound of her paws thrumming on the sandy dunes.

"I know you'll try and deny it. 'Tis natural, I was in that position once myself. And look where I am now." Bloody images swirled through her mind. Her past was still there. The voice would not let her forget….

_But I don't _want _to be you! I _won't_ be you. Not ever. _

She heard the chuckle again and again in her mind…following her, haunting her. Salvia slowed to a walk, exhausted, but the voice was still chuckling in her head. "Take them below."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You think it'll work Father?" Ishmael's brain clicked along, trying to find some error, some folly in his father's plan. _But you don't want to find a fault with it, do you? It'll hurt Yomi. You know you want that. _Ishmael pushed his disturbing thoughts down, though too shaken by them to concentrate fully.

Grasping at thin air, Ishmael remarked, "I fail to see what's so special about this mousebabe?"

Grausam shrugged. "It's not who he is, it's what he is. Not even I could resist taking in a small helpless infant." Ishmael raised his eyebrows, arms folded over his chest. Grausam laughed, "Of course, I'd enslave the little wretch straight off…but that's just a minor detail." Ishmael laughed along with his father, feeling sick again.

Grausam nodded to his son. "Well, I'll be seeing you tonight, then. Don't be too late. I'm sure you'll enjoy what I have in store for the mousewife." Ishmael grinned along with his father, until the door slammed shut. He shuddered.

Ishmael's eyes flooded with tears. He banged his head softly against the hut wall, letting them trickle down his face. He had just wished Yomi would get hurt, but now a mousewife would lose her son. Well, maybe not _lose_ lose, but to have her infant ripped from her arms to make a dangerous journey he probably would not survive…. Ishmael vomited.

Wiping his mouth on his tunic sleeve, he finally calmed down enough to collect his thoughts. He formulated a plan. It had a shaky beginning, not much of a middle, and the end was nonexistent. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ishmael swaggered out of the hut. Cracking his whip more for show than anything else, he sauntered along the rows of crops.

His adrenaline flowed freely, his heart pounding madly. He kept reminding himself that as second-in-command none here would challenge his authority. Finally, he had made it unobtrusively to the each of the workings. He saw the mousewife struggling along with a heavy basket of corn, hampered with her chains and infant.

Ishmael glanced around, and spotted a few guards within earshot. He placed a gentle paw on the mousewife's shoulder, reassuringly squeezing it as he snarled, "Well, it seems as if that pest of yours is slowing you down. You know I like my slaves working at top efficiency. I'll just take him off your paws for a little while." While he reached to take the infant from her, he murmured quietly, "This is keeping him safer than you know."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yomi marched miserably forward, back to the fortress from work, shivering in the drizzle that had turned into a downpour. Her golden fur turned dark brown, plastering onto her skin, making Yomi appear even smaller and more vulnerable than before. Yomi's throat ached from holding back her tears: Hefra had probably just gone to report to Grausam, and there was absolutely nothing she could do for her. What horrific things had Grausam dreamed up this time? Yomi did not want to think about it.

_And just think, it's all your fault. _No it's yet. _Liar. It was your idea. _Hefra didn't have to agree with it. _You didn't leave her much choice. _But she agreed! _It was still your idea. Hefra could have just waited until night to give you the information. You just wanted to prove yourself to Ishmael. _Shut up!


	5. Chapter 5

The wind whispered through the sandy dune. Salvia clutched her pack straps tighter, wishing for a moment there was somebeast beside her, to calm her irrational fears. She brushed that thought away; she was alone now. She didn't need anybeast to survive.

"Now if you escape, where will you go? The sea? The air? Face it, there's nowhere for you to go. And even if there was, you couldn't handle the _real_ world on your own."

_Yes, I can! Look, _look _at me now. I'm fine and healthy and _happy.

"Supposing you did escape and somehow made it to land, you couldn't make it more than two hours on your own."

Salvia began to pound away across the dunes again, smashing the voice's head fatally with each pawstep. _I'm fine! It's been more than two hours and I'm still alive!_

"I see your about to protest. It's no use. You'll always know in your pathetic little honorable heart that you're wrong…dare I say, _dead _wrong."

_Liar! Stop tormenting me and _"Leave me _alone_!" Salvia voiced her last thought aloud, screaming it into the night air. She stopped atop a dune, screaming it aloud to the night sky.

"Biggamouse, shuttamouth quickfast." Salvia whirled, and jumped backwards when she saw the speaker, a miniscule vole-like animal that slightly resembled a mouse with a long nose. She landed on her bottom, quaking as she looked up.

"How…how long have you been there?"

"Highbeast tell Biggamouse to shuttamouth!"

Salvia nearly complied, meekness welling up within her. _No, you can't let yourself get walked on forever. _Salvia stood up, drawing her dagger shakily. "Not until you give me some answers. How long have you been following me?"

In a blur, the strange creature had drawn her dagger, knocked Salvia to the ground – taking her dagger in the process, and held Salvia down with a footpaw to the throat. "Now Biggamouse haveto shuttamouth, betterdoit, quickfastnow."

Adrenaline rushed through Salvia's veins. She could not just lay down and obey orders anymore! Heart racing, the adrenaline gave her strength to push her attacker's footpaw off of her, knocking the vole-thing off balance. Her pack forgotten, Salvia ran as she had never done before.

The sound of the attacker's pursuing pawsteps keeping the adrenaline racing through her system. She did not find herself short of breath, as before, but she felt like she was flying, footpaws skimming the ground. Yet her pursuer's thudding pawsteps never seemed to get farther away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grausam sipped his wine, watching the slaves' body language over the rim of his goblet. Ishmael watched Grausam in a similar manner, trying to gage his father's mood. Grausam began pacing in front of the slaves groveling before him. _She _was trembling slightly, though putting up a good show of hiding. The mousewife was weeping muffled tears.

Setting his goblet down on the table, Grausam stopped in front of the mousewife. He made a great show of drawing his whip. Slowly, painfully slow, out of his belt, undid the knot holding the coils together, let them fall downwards…brushing against the mousewife's back. She gave a muffled yelp, drawing into herself, trying to hide within her self, terrified.

_She _tried to move a comforting paw to the mousewife's shoulder, but Grausam stamped his footpaw firmly onto _hers. _Yomi opened her mouth in a silent yell, but made no noise. Secretly disappointed, Grausam kept his cool, focusing once again on the quavering mousewife. "Wo ist dein Säugling?" Ishmael's eyes flickered up from his wine. What was his father trying to do?

"I, I don't understand Master." The mousewife shivered. Grausam grinned savagely, running the end of his whip up and down her spine.

"Wirklich? Ich denke nicht." Ishmael shuddered, turning his head away as Grausam drew back his whip.

_Crack_. The mousewife screamed in pain, balling herself up into a fetal position. Grausam bent down, lowering his head down to Hefra's eyelevel. He switched back into the language Hefra understood. "Tell me and the pain will end." Hefra wanted to say something, anything to end the pain…but what was she supposed to say? Hefra began to sob, trying to curl up even tighter.

"Very well. I'm in no hurry. This can carry on as long as you would like." Standing up and walking away for a moment, Grausam muttered into Ishmael's ear, "Inform _it _of its duties for tonight. Midnight. And don't be late."

Ishmael bowed respectfully, "As you wish, Your Majesty." Ishmael roughly grabbed Yomi, not wanting to admit he enjoyed it, making _her_ feel pain for once.Dragging her out into the hall, he force-marched her away from Grausam's chambers and the screams now issuing from within.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yomi sat, hugging herself, trying to keep warm. How she hated the cold and damp. _Ishmael put you here on purpose. He hates you. Well, I hate him too. _Yomi pulled miserably on the chains that bound her footpaws to the floor.

Suddenly, she swiveled her one ear around, rewarded by the faint sound of somebeast breathing. The creature in question emerged from the gloom. "You!" Spion stood grinning in the torchlight.

"Well, well, well. What's this? Was the little spy been outspyed? By a wikkle _gerbil _perhaps?" He chuckled.

"Spion!" Yomi spat the word, trying to stand. She fell back, growling as the chain kept her in one spot.

"Now, now. Don't get fresh with me. Or I'll just forget the offer I was going to make and leave." Spion melted back into the gloom. Yomi hung her head; she wanted to at least hear whatever Spion had to say.

She sighed. "Spion, you win. What's your offer?"

Grinning, Spion reemerged from the gloom. "I knew you'd see it my way. I'm here to offer you my services."

A/N: Sorry for the long period between updates. The server was down for a couple days after I wrote this.


	6. Chapter 6

Ishmael sighed, letting his head sag onto his chest as he stood before the door to Grausam's chambers. Who knew what the poor mousewife was going through? He shuddered. He did not want to know. But opening the door would mean he was going to find out. He had to open the door. He reached his paw out. Well, his father had not actually _ordered _him to return. Yet Grausam would be tad displeased with him. A scream issued from within the room, followed by sobbing and pleading.

Grausam was only half a tad displeased at the moment.

Ishmael turned from the door, feeling sick. _You have to at least keep your father from killing the mousewife, _his conscience screamed at him. Turning to the door, Ishmael hovered his paw over the doorknob, willing himself to open it. _Pretend it's Yomi in there, in pain. _Although thoroughly disgusted with himself, Ishmael found the will inside of him at that thought to slam the door open.

He turned, deliberately shutting the door behind him, not wanting to turn and see the blood. _Think of Yomi, think of Yomi. _He turned. _Great Dark Forest! _

………………………………………………………………………………………………………Hefra let the tears run down her face unchecked. Her head rested on the stone floor. The nice, cold stone. Her back hurt so much. Grausam had flogged her until his paws were too tired to continue. Now all she wanted was sleep…a long sleep…a nice, long, deep sleep. That would be so nice.

"Father!" Grausam looked up. Ishmael stood near the door. Hefra blindly crawled for the nearby corner, wanting to sleep there, in peace.

"What Ishmael?" Grausam let his gaze flicker back to the mousewife, now huddled in the corner. He wanted to keep having fun with her. But, _no, _his son had to interrupt.

Ishmael jerked his head to the hallway, indicating he wanted to speak out there. Grausam reluctantly follow his second-in-command out. "This better be important."

Ishmael leaned against the wall, acting nonchalant, but actually trying to fight of the waves of nausea and light-headedness that threatened to envelope him after seeing the mousewife's bloody body. "I think I have a better way to find out how to get your infant back."

"Better than my way?" Grausam narrowed his black eyes.

Ishmael bowed respectfully, "No disrespect meant Father. I simply thought you'd want to keep your plan on schedule." Grausam nodded.

"You have a point, Ishmael. What's this idea of yours?"

"Everybeast knows that a rumor runs like wildfire among slaves, the little idiots." Grausam grinned appreciatively at Ishmael's nasty remark. "You know, the other slave imprisoned at the mo-"

"Don't you dare speak to me of _her_!" Grausam half-drew his dirk. Ishmael bowed hastily again.

"Your Majesty, I merely thought she may have heard what became of the infant. She surely knew what was done with him. You can certainly make her talk."

Grausam rubbed his claws together eagerly. "Not just talk…scream, beg, whimper, moan…. So evil…but yet so good!"

Ishmael bowed yet again. "I'll go retrieve it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"The only service you could offer me would be throwing your fat head into the pond."

"I thought you wanted to hear me out."

"Fine!" Yomi spat. She hated having to listen to creatures she hated.

Spion grinned slyly. "You could use my services. You're stuck chained to the floor. Yet somehow, _I _managed to get out of my guarded slave cell to come talk to you."

"How did you do that?"

"I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind. And trust me, you don't mind."

Silence.

"Do you want to be free?"

"Guess."

"Well, I'll assume yes. Let's say I knew the location of a certain...family member of yours."

Yomi's eyes brightened. "Salvia! You know where she is? You'll help me find her?"

"Not so fast slave. I'm not doing this for nothing, you know."

"What do you want? I'll give you anything?"

"Agree to be my personal slave. I'll show you where your certain family member is and free you on the spot then."

Yomi's head whirled. To see Salvia…after how many seasons? She was too happy to remember. She'd just need to be a slave for a little while longer. That would be nothing. And Spion wouldn't do anything bad, would he? Of course not! He wanted to help her!

Yomi extended her paw. "Agreed."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ishmael felt horrible. He actually was instrumental in having Yomi tortured. Was he turning into Grausam? Fear clawed at his heart. Was he becoming the one thing he truly hated?

Ishmael choose to ignore that rather unpleasant thought. He pushed the main door to the dungeon area open.

Wait! He had locked the door, and checked it three times. He peered in. Yomi's chains

lay empty on the ground. He growled deep in his chest. Turning on his heel, Ishmael sprinted up the stairs and corridors, tracking by scent. He picked up Spion's scent as well. Panting, he arrived in the kitchens. Yomi appeared, grinning happily from one of the pantries. The grin disappeared when she saw Ishmael. She drew a dagger now tucked into her belt.

"Spion!" The gerbil appeared behind her.

"Guards!" Ishmael yelled as he dove onto Spion. Yomi tried to clumsily thrust Ishmael with her dagger. It bounced of the back of one of his ribs and clattered away onto the floor as a large gerbil seized her arms from behind, pulling them into a painful position towards her head.

Panting, Yomi watched Ishmael pull Spion upright into a headlock. Her guard forced her onto her knees, then pressed her forehead to the ground. He placed his foot paw on her skull to keep her in that position. Yomi tried to wriggle, but she was too firmly held in place. The guard whacked her on the spine, keeping her still.

Ishmael handed Spion over to another guard. His chest heaving, adrenaline pumping through his body, he ordered, "Bring them up to Grausam's chambers."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yomi and Spion were thrown onto the floor in front of Grausam. Terror gripped Yomi. Memories flooded back. Grausam watched, his face revealing nothing. "Hmm, don't throw it there," he indicated Yomi with a claw, "chain her to the wall so I can teach her a lesson."

Yomi did not whimper; Yomi did not cry out. Suddenly exhausted, she let herself be hung by her wrists from the wall. The chains ate into her tender flesh, but she ignored the pain.

Grausam approached. He nodded sharply to the guards. They bowed low, then left the room.

Yomi's breath caught. Her world was nothing but her and Grausam now. His face drew closer. "I'll teach you to run away." His voice was gentle, but with roughness around the edges. He drew his dagger, smoothly bringing it up to Yomi's face. She trembled. The pain was coming…she hated pain…couldn't stand pain.

"No! Don't torture her. Torture me!"


	7. Chapter 7

Grausam's paw clenched momentarily on the dagger. Hellgates, why hadn't he killed Spion when he had the chance? Glaring at Yomi, he murmured, "Du wirdst sterben. Keine Sorge!" Yomi recoiled into the wall, fear clawing at her heart. She did not want to die; even pain would be better than death.

Grausam swaggered across the room. "Has it not occurred to you, _Sklave_, that you aren't in any position to make demands of me?"

Spion shuddered, hoping he had not played his cards too early. Preparing himself mentally for the humiliation he was about to subject himself to, he took a deep breath. To everybeast's surprise, he touched his forehead to the floor, groveling as any normal slave would be expected to do. "I know Master, but I want to plead for my friend's life." Yomi's head jerked up. Friend? Spion certainly was not _her_ friend, and she sincerely doubted he really considered her his friend.

Grausam swayed back and forth uneasily, taken aback by his former spy's words. He glanced at Ishmael, though all he saw was a pair of glazed over eyes; apparently his son was deep in thought. Grausam turned back to Spion, who was still groveling. "Well, well, Spion, who would have thought. But I'm afraid, in light of the circumstances, I cannot fill your request," Grausam said mockingly. "It seems to me you're quite suitable for the role of a quarry slave. Ishmael?" There was a pause. "Ishmael?" Grausam whirled. His son was gone, along with Yomi.

Grausam screamed furiously, "_Hellgates_!" Thrusting his dagger back into his belt, Grausam looked to his guards, "Hold him there. Don't even think of letting him escape."

Grausam shot out into the hall. A quick glance around assured him his son was nowhere nearby. "Stop Ishmael," he called, hoping some guard might hear and be able to apprehend his son. Not likely, but still. He followed the sound of pounding paws, doing a quick double take as he heard pawsteps behind him. Whizzing by on all fours, Spion made a break for it.

Dropping onto all his paws as well, Grausam heard faint shouts from up ahead, "Run, Yomi, run." Ishmael's voice.

"No, not without me!" Spion's voice.

"And you're coming too!" _Her _voice.

The shouts now rang clearly up to Grausam's ears. He charged down, faster than he had ever run in his life, determined to catch Yomi. All four creatures were now tearing through the partially completed sandstone fortress. Grausam caught a glimpse of them as he hit the top of the spiral staircase, skidding out in an attempt to slow himself down.

Yomi, Ishmael, and Spion all burst outside through the entrance hall at the same time, sliding over to the ladder that lead up to the western battlements. The two gerbils leapt high up on the ladder, with Yomi scrambling quite quickly in their wake. Grausam and some of his guards ran out of the still open door. "We've got company," Ishmael screeched hoarsely. Spion and Yomi turned.

"Of course we do, fathead. They're not just gonna let us run away nice and quiet-like." Spion growled. What an idiot Ishmael was.

"Anybeast with a long-range weapon, fire at will!" Heeding Grausam's order, gerbil paws bent back bowstrings and whirled slings. Arrows and stones began thudding onto the wall top, followed by a few javelins and spears. The three escapees dodged madly, Spion and Ishmael having an easier time with their more lithe and nimble bodies. Yomi kept up quickly as she raced along with the two gerbils…but she was not fast enough.

A scream rent the night air as an arrow thudded into Yomi's side. She paused, staring horrified at it. "There's not time for that," Spion yelled, grabbing her paw. He pulled the now limping Yomi after him, her breathing coming in shallow gasps as blood leaked from her wound.

"How are we gonna get down?" Yomi yelled above the thrumming of approaching paws on the ladder. The guards who had been carrying swords, dirks, daggers, and the like where now rapidly approaching.

"Like this!" Spion yelled wildly, seizing Yomi and Ishmael as he threw himself from the battlements.

Spion and Ishmael's combat training took over and they landed on bent knees, falling onto the elbows, and rolling to eliminate some of the strain of their jump. Yomi landed harshly on her back, knocking the wind out of her. Her slave experience took over her though, and she found the strength to scramble up again. A jolt of pain shot through her injured side. She screamed, fiery pain twisting inside her gut.

Her paw hovered over the arrow, as Yomi tried to will herself to yank it out. "Do you wanna bleed to death, stupid? We'll see ta it later." Spion again pulled Yomi after him and Ishmael. He charged after the other gerbil, diving deep into the woodlands, with the pawsteps of their pursuers beginning to echo in their ears.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Thunk_! Salvia screamed as a throwing dagger pierced her paw, pinning it into the sand. She yanked it out, coloring the white sand with her blood. Sobbing at the pain, Salvia did not notice the strange creature approaching her. Salvia's thought left her, only her defense mechanisms working. "Please don't kill me! I'll be a good slave, I promise. Just don't kill me, I beg you!" Salvia flung herself forward, ignoring her injured footpaw as best she could.

Kneeling in front of the strange creature's grimy footpaws, she began to lick them , hoping to appease her surely impending wrath. The strange creature backed away, looking uncomfortable and flustered. "Highbeast nowanna killslay Biggamouse."

Salvia tried again, too terrified to hear the strange creature's voice. This time she tried to calm the creature by prostrating herself; that had almost always calmed down _him_.

_Maybe I shouldn't be as lenient with you this time, Sklave. Maybe a..._flogging_ would teach you a lesson in manners._

"No, please, just go away," Salvia sobbed pitifully, balling up, trying to hide.

_Perhaps each member of the crew should have a turn at that, how does that sound? And maybe even your sister could have a go._

The strange creature watched, guilt pulsing through her. It had seemed a little harsh to injury the young one, but she had been endangering both of them. Yet, the huddled figure on the ground seemed to speak of a dark past the creature had shone a flame to. Bending down gently, she murmured, "Highbeast sadasorry. Highbeast tendaheal to walkapaw. Biggamouse trsutaHighbeast todothis?"

"Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me." Salvia rocked back and forth, still slightly out-of-touch with world. The creature bent down and picked Salvia up tenderly.

"Highbeast tendaheal walkapaw. Biggamouse save. Hushnow, Biggamouse, hushnow."


	8. Chapter 8

Salvia shivered as her eyes flickered open. Her throat was very sore and it hurt just to breathe, let alone swallow. Her new master was sitting by her bedside, but stood up and moved to the fireside momentarily to retrieve something when she noticed Salvia was awake.

_Why are you not groveling Sklave? _I-I'm sorry Captain, but I'm sick. _What's this? An excuse? Dearie me, we can't have that, now can we? I'll inform one of my captains that you should be punished for this insolence._

"No," Salvia tried to murmur aloud, but could not since her voice was gone. With the end of the horrible memory playing in her mind, Salvia managed to roll onto the floor, her body aching and stiff. Tears leaked out of her closed eyes as she fought the pain.

There was a soft gentle clink as a goblet was set down on the bedside table, _just like his wine glass_, Salvia thought miserably. She sensed paws coming near her and recoiled slightly. "Please forgive me Master. I shouldn't have been in a bed, especially with blankets," Salvia whispered, unable to speak any louder without her voice. _Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me._ The paws wrapped around her and under her shoulders, surprisingly gentle. Salvia tried to ball up, prepared to be tossed across the room or something similar, but her new master laid her carefully back onto the bed and pulled soft blankets over her. "I'm not worthy Master," Salvia whispered, trying to get out of bed again.

The strange creature sighed, tightening her grip on the young creature. An idea came to her. "Highbeastorderacommand Biggamouse staystill in sleepaplace."

"Yes Master," Salvia conceded, finally laying still.

"Highbeastorderacommand Biggamouse gluggadrink this." The creature picked up the goblet filled with a steaming tea. "Gluggadrink helpasoothe Biggamouse's speakathroat, since madeawith burdockroot gluggadrinkis." Salvia accepted the goblet and slowly drank it. It immediately soothed the burning in her throat.

"Thank you Master. You are very kind." The creature inwardly cringed. She was always bad at lying, but this young one seemed like she would follow any order given to her.

"Highbeast nolikea Biggamouse tocallaname Highbeast Master. Highbeastorderacommand Biggamouse tocallaname meHeilen."

"Yes, Master Heilen." Heilen shook her head sadly; she had inadvertently opened up all this creature's mental and emotional scars. But now they could be fully healed. Heilen sensed that the place Salvia had most recently come from had done her more harm than good, despite its intentions.

"Biggamouse, whatcallaname isyours?" Salvia flinched, wondering if some cruel joke was coming.

"Whatever you want it to be, Master Heilen."

"Highbeast wannaitabe _your_callaname."

"Salvia, Master Heilen."

"Justaonelast orderacommand. Can Salviamouse learnaspeakatalk Highbeasttongue?"

Salvia nodded. "Slaveamouse willatrylearn, MasterHeilen."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Care to tell me how your guards were unsuccessful in stopping three creatures from escaping, two of which were terrified to begin with?" Grausam stood angrily at his window, watching his new second-in-command's reflection in the glass.

"Y-Your Majesty," Virt stuttered, "the guards and myself weren't aware there were any slaves out of their cell." Grausam whirled on his heel angrily and stalked over to the unfortunate gerbil.

"Are you suggesting that it is _my _fault they escaped?"

"N-no Your Majesty," Virt said, his legs and voice shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, so you're making excuses then?" Virt struggled as Grausam grabbed him by the neck, slowly pressing down his windpipe. "I'll tolerate excuses only once. I shall now expect several things to be done by you, and done properly. Tell the slaves their precious friend as been executed by torture, along with Spion. Also inform them that Ishmael is on a slave-capturing excursion. When a group of guards you will send out returns without him, inform them he has been killed. And I expect that group of guards will return with at least another score of slaves."

Grausam released Virt. "Can you remember all of that? Or shall I reinforce it," Grausam smiled sadistically as he reached for the think whip at his waist.

"P-perfectly clear, Your Majesty." Virt darted out the door and slammed it shut before Grausam could get near him or think of anymore evil schemes.

He sighed…. What should he do first? Virt headed for the slave cell – the slaves were being kept under tight security since the escapade last night in case it was part of some bigger plot. As Virt descended deep into the depths of the fortress it became colder and colder, even though it was just a little chilly outside.

Now that he was a sufficient distance from Grausam - and Grausam's whip - Virt felt back in control. Pausing for a moment outside the slave cell door, he reveled in his newfound power. As the just-promoted second-in-command he could do almost anything without Grausam's permission or orders. Putting one of his new keys into the cell's lock, he unlocked the padlocked and undid both latches.

There was a deathly silence as the door swung open. The slaves stopped talking amongst themselves and kneeled in front of him, heads bowed. Virt grinned cruelly, unfurling his whip. Picking one of the unfortunate young ones who happened to be close to him, Virt stalked over. He asked mockingly, "Is that 'ow you show proper respect for a second-in-command?"

"No Captain," the small hamster replied, unsure of himself.

"Well then, why are you kneeling like that?"

The hamster trembled, swallowing loudly. "B-because you're not the second-in-command, Captain." Virt placed a footpaw onto the hamster's neck, slamming its head into the ground.

"Bad slave, making assumptions. I am, in fact, serving as second-in-command until Zweite Ishmael returns with more slaves. And, as such, you shall treat me with proper respect. Understood?"

"Yes Zweite," the slaves chorused, lowering their heads onto the icy stone floor.

Still banging the same hamster slave's head rhythmically on the floor, Virt continued. "I also just _regret_ to inform you that your favorite little scummy pal and that newest slave 'ave been executed by 'Is Majesty by torture. I shall see to it that anybeast who tries anything funny will meet a worse fate."

"Yes Zweite," the slaves chorused again as Virt locked them back into their prison.

Still enjoying this new power and jurisdiction, Virt went up a few flights of stairs and entered Ishmael's now-vacant room. He walked to where three cords hung from three bells of slightly different sizes. Ringing the one that said Guards, Virt settled down at the large desk to wait.

A few minutes later, Virt's former peers entered the room, looking bemused. Virt grinned. "I'm the new Zweite." His friends' faces fell when they realized their hopes for promotion had been dashed. "I 'ave a plan that will get all of you promoted. Take your squads on the slave-capturing expedition that Ishmael is going to be "killed" on. Then capture the score of slaves Grausam wants and everything's nice and good, la-dee-da-dee-da. _But_," Virt paused, suspense hanging in the air.

"But what?" The guards leaned forward in anticipation.

"But Ishmael can't have gone too far. 'E's too moral to kill Spion, and there's no way 'e'd ever kill Yomi, and she'll be slowing them down since she's badly injured. So bring back a score and _three_ creatures." All the guards grinned along with Virt.

"Yes Zweite!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

A sob rose from the back of the mass of slaves, moments after Virt left. Hefra curled up on her side, trying not to injure her back anymore than Grausam had, tears trickling from her black eyes. Hefra's eldest daughter, Firedew, crawled over. "What's wrong?"

"I-i-it's Preis."

Firedew clenched her paws. "Virt has my brother?" She stood up, growling.

"N-no. Grausam huhuh a-almost did. S-so Ishmael to- huhuh took Preis to p-protect him." Hefra broke down, crying too hard to explain further. Firedew lowered her head.

"Preis is gone…." A teardrop fell from Firedew's eye. Picking her head up, Firedew's eyes blazed with anger and hate. "It's all Yomi's fault!"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Here, Ishmael, I'll take her for awhile." Gently, Ishmael passed Yomi into Spion's arms. The pair had been rationing small doses of pain-killing herbs to Yomi, unable to take the time to stop and probably tend to her arrow wound. Instead, the pair of gerbils had been forced to take turns carrying the semi-conscious Yomi.

Finally, neither of them could take it any longer. "Spion, do you mind if we stop and rest awhile? I couldn't go another pawstep."

Sitting down slowly so as to jostle Yomi as little as possible, Spion nodded in agreement, to out-of-breath to reply. Suddenly, Ishmael sprang up. "Verdammt!"

"Was ist es," Spion asked, both gerbils falling into their native tongue for the moment.

"Der Säugling! Ich vergesse!" Ishmael changed back into the common tongue for Yomi's benefit. "Listen, I have to go back and get him or he'll die."

Spion protested, "But we're already a good full day's march away from the fortress and you haven't had any rest or food. Besides, Grausam'll have creatures out for all our heads."

Ishmael turned to go. "That makes no difference. If I'm responsible for the death of a baby that might have lived otherwise, I won't be able to live with myself. As for the creatures following us…I'll try and make my path back more apparent than our trail going this way. I'll hurry back with food and more herbs for Yomi."

With that, Ishmael bounded into the dusky light, soon lost to view among the foliage. Spion looked down at the sweaty form of Yomi. Laying her softly on the ground, he lightly walked away a few yards. Clearing away the loam, Spion began digging a burrow for them to hide in. Pushing the soil apart with his paws, he tapped into the bottom of the tunnel to where the burrow would be with his footpaws.

Smiling to himself as he dug, Spion nodded in satisfaction; he had played his cards at the perfect time.

**A/N: **This is my longest chapter yet. I hope that makes up for the fact I fell behind on updating. (Though I do have excuses: tons of homework, then vacation, then I got sick.)

And I haven't begged for reviews yet. But I shall now. falls onto knees Please, please review. I think I have proportionally the least amount of reviews in this section. looks very sad Push the pwetty blue button and you'll turn my frown upside-down.


	9. Chapter 9

The deck swayed beneath Yomi's bound footpaws. She clasped Salvia's paws behind her back, as they were tied in such a manner, "Don't worry Sal, I'm gonna be a warrior, I'll get us fwee!"

Guards roughly intervened, shoving both the tiny creatures onto the deck. "Party's over," one of them yelled. He pushed Yomi onto her knees and firmly planted her forehead onto the rough wooden deck. But as he did so, the guard did something very strange. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Not at all the normal behavior of a brutal corsair guard.

Suddenly everybeast on deck was in a flurry. All the guards snapped to attention, paws on their cutlass and sword hilts. The guard that had pushed Yomi down paced forward regally, bowing respectfully to the figure that emerged from the cabin.

The figure nodded in acknowledgment of his second-in-command and approached the two new slaves groveling before him. He waved a paw at the two guards holding spears to the slaves' necks to keep them in place. As soon as the weapons were gone, one of the slaves looked up. She leapt up. "I'm a warrior and I say you let us go now!"

All present laughed uproariously at the short little figure defying their captain. Picking her up easily by the front of her tunic, the large gerbil lifted her up to his eye-level. "Son, show this one down to the special warrior oar." More laughter. The large gerbil's second-in-command seized Yomi and carried her belowdecks.

The gerbil chained Yomi to a heavier oar than the others, next to a young female mouse. The mouse's tired sad eyes looked up at the second-in-command pleadingly. He avoided her gaze. "I'm sorry Hefra. Gr-"

"Son, get back up here. We still have another slave to deal with."

"I'm sorry." And with that the second-in-command swept back up onto deck, hardening his face once more. By the time he had reached his father, the larger gerbil in charge was already dealing with his second slave.

"Now, are you a little warrior too, like your sister down there?" The tiny creature in his paws shook her head, trembling with terror. "Answer me," he added with a quick shake for emphasis.

"No," came the muted reply.

"No what?"

"No…sir?"

"Wrong!" The gerbil captain flung Salvia across the deck and she slammed onto the deck some length away. He stalked up. "No Master….Say it!"

"No Master," Salvia whimpered, balling up.

"That's better. Son, do you think it'll make a good personal slave?"

The captain's second-in-command sized up the tiny creature. "I suppose it'll do."

"Very good. Give her an introductory beating. Teach her the ropes." This said, the captain swept below decks to where Yomi sat chained. She glared up at him, tiny black eyes blazing. The captain slapped her hard across the muzzle, causing blood to drip from it. Yomi yelped as her paws were stopped from twisting back with her body by the heavy chains.

The gerbil captain grabbed her face, twisting it up into his. "Listen _Sklave_," he noticed her angry reaction. "Aye, that's right. You're a slave now. That means I _own _you. You're just a thing, an it. And don't you even think of forgetting that." Thrusting her away, the gerbil captain drew his whip. "I think you're due for an introductory beating as well."

Yomi's eyes flashed open, cold sweat dripping down her face. Spion turned as he heard Yomi hyperventilating on the other side of the small burrow he had dug for them. He crouched down slowly beside her shaking form.

"Please don't beat me, please don't beat me," she moaned as Spion placed a paw softly on her feverish brow.

"Hush now, it was all just a nightmare…just a nightmare…you're safe now. I won't let anybeast harm you." Yomi's bloodshot eyes roamed up to Spion's black ones in the darkness. All she could make out was the outline of a gerbil.

"Thank you Ishmael," she murmured, squeezing his paw to reassure herself the nightmare was over. Spion had to resist doing a small victory dance in the cramped burrow. This was just _too_ perfect.

"Yomi, Spion went back to the fortress, but I don't think we should wait for him to come back." Yomi nodded slowly. "Let me dress your wounds and we can travel to the other coast. Spion will never think of looking for us there."

Yomi's eyes flickered as she fought sleep and unconsciousness. "W-would I be free?"

Spion nodded and gave her paw a little squeeze in return. "You would think so."

Yomi smiled.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Salvia's eyes wavered as she fought sleep. _I must stay awake. Master hasn't given me permission to sleep. _Finally, though, Salvia lost the battle with the passionflower that Heilen had put into the burdock root tea without Salvia's knowledge.

Salvia sat upon the sands of the beach, reading a small book. She glanced up, as sand was thrown across the page she was reading slowly, sounding out most of the words. Her sister stood there, grinning. Salvia looked back down at the page, tears filling her large dark eyes. "Yomi, why'd you do that? Now it's ruined and she's gonna be reawwy angry at me!" Salvia burst into tears, running up the beach back towards their burrow.

Yomi raced after her sister, catching up easily. Tackling Salvia, Yomi wrested the book out of her sister's paws. Running back down to the ocean water, followed by Salvia, Yomi paused at the tide line. Holding the book at arms-length Yomi said tauntingly, "If you tell Sal, I won't ever ever let you have your book back." Despite the absurdity of the statement, Salvia started crying even harder.

"Yomi, please, give it back," Salvia sobbed. Salvia suddenly gasped as she felt a calloused paw on her shoulder.

"Dry your tears little one. What's wrong?" The gerbil lowered himself down to Salvia's eye-level.

Salvia looked at the gerbil warily. "I-I'm not supposed to talk to strangers without Auster."

"And with good reason!" The gerbil suddenly lunged and grabbed Salvia's tail.

"Owowow! You're huwting me," Salvia screamed.

"Well, does this hurt more?" The gerbil cruelly stood up, lifting Salvia up by the middle of her tail.

Tears flowed down Salvia's cheeks. She yelled, struggling to free herself from the vice-like grip. "Yes, it does. Please, stop! Stop!"

The gerbil gave Salvia a shake. "Address me correctly and maybe I will," he growled.

"Please stop sir," Salvia wept.

"You better stop huwting Sal or I'll kill you!" The gerbil looked down at the small creature glaring at him.

"That will be amusing to see, so I think I'll keep hurting your sister as long as I like." He yanked Yomi up by her scruff. Salvia whimpered, looking pleadingly at her captor.

He returned her whimper by giving her another, harder shake. Salvia continued crying, while Yomi kept struggling. The gerbil ignored both, swaggering jauntily away down the shore, carrying Yomi and dragging Salvia.

"W-where are you taking us? Sir," Salvia hastily added.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Suddenly, Yomi stopped struggling momentarily. The gerbil looked down, then followed her line of sight. He grinned when he noticed Salvia had stopped crying she was so frightened. Wading into the shallows, he called up to the large ship, "Virt, throw down some rope, would ya?" Salvia was spluttering in the shallows, sinking underwater when waves crashed onto the beach, spluttering and gagging when she reemerged to the surface.

Catching the rope Virt threw down, the gerbil tied up both his prizes. Yomi fought hard as he tied her paws behind her back. With his free paw, the gerbil dragged Salvia out of the water, her fur now plastered to her body, and tied her paws behind her as well. She began to sob again as the gerbil stroked her headfur, murmuring, "You're a nice little trophy. The captain should reward me well for you."

Biting onto the slack of the rope with his teeth, the gerbil grabbed onto a long rope that hung down form the deck. He hung patiently as several slaves on deck slowly hauled him upwards. When the jerky pulls had brought him up to the level of the oar ports, he took an opportunity to grin nastily at the oar slaves chained there. The ones who noticed his fleeting presence and ominous smile quailed in fear.

After several more pulls, he was hauled on deck by four hamster slaves. As soon as he had his footpaws firmly on deck, they all knelt down and bowed their heads, trembling. He patted a slave's head. The slave shook even harder, mewing in terror. "Don't worry. I don't have time to have fun with you lot today." The slaves gave an audible sigh of relief. "You should thank me for my kindness."

"Thank you, Oberhaupt Spion," they murmured.

"Now back to your work." Strolling along deck, proudly displaying his captives, Spion felt the power of success welling up inside him. Virt joined him on the walk up to their captain's cabin.

"I can't believe you caught them," he said. "Are you sure it's really them?"

Spion nodded. Grabbing Salvia's head, he twisted it around to face Virt. "Definitely." He ran a paw up and down the black line that was on the left side of Salvia's face. "The other one has it too. Plus they look almost exactly alike."

The two gerbils had arrived at the captain's cabin. "Will you watch them for a minute?" Virt nodded. Spion strode into the cabin. Salvia huddled pitifully by Yomi.

"Don't worry Sal, I'm gonna be a warrior, I'll get us fwee!" Suddenly, Salvia was grabbed by Virt. She was shoved forward, her head painfully colliding with the deck. She sensed Yomi being thrust into a similar position. Everybeast around them snapped to attention. Silence followed. The spear at the base of Salvia's neck was removed. A moment later, Yomi sprang up. "I'm a warrior and I say you let us go now." Salvia shrunk into herself as everybeast laughed hysterically at her sister's brash behavior. Nothing good could come of resisting. Salvia had already learned that lesson from Oberhaupt Spion, as he seemed to be called. _At least by slaves_, Salvia thought bitterly. As much as Salvia could dislike her sister at times, she did not want her to have to learn the same lesson she had.

Salvia knew she had guessed right when the captain said, "Son, show this one down to the special warrior oar." She felt more tears springing to her eyes as her sister was taken away. Utterly alone, Salvia cowered on the deck as the captain turned his attention to her. Turning his head, he called, "Son, get back up here. We still have another slave to deal with."

"Now, are you a little warrior too, like your sister down there?" Salvia was so terrified she could barely shake her head. The captain picked her up by her sopping tunic front. "Answer me!" He shook Salvia.

With tears beginning to fall onto the deck, Salvia answered in a tiny voice, "No."

"No what?"

"No…sir?" Salvia hoped to the Dark Forest she was right. That was, after all, what Oberhaupt Spion had made her call him.

"Wrong!" He flung Salvia. She instinctively put her arms out to break her fall. Even with that little bit of force that broke her fall, Salvia still had the wind knocked out of her when she landed painfully on the deck. The captain swaggered over to her.

"No Master….Say it!" Salvia had never felt so much fright in her life.

Finally getting her wind back, she managed to whimper, "No Master." She balled up, trying to hide.

"That's better. Son, do you think it'll make a good personal slave?" Salvia began to cry again. First off, they were calling her an it, like she was a thing. Secondly, she could barely even stand the _thought_ of having to spend all day, every day serving this creature.

A new voice, the captain's son, Salvia guessed, answered his father, "I suppose it'll do."

"Very good. Give her an introductory beating. Teach her the ropes." Salvia felt her fur prickle as the captain's son hauled her up.

Retying her paws to the deck railing, he whispered, "I'm sorry," before sending the whip biting into her back.

Heilen shook Salvia by her shoulders as she screamed out in her sleep. "Salviamouse, wakeaup, wakeaup!" Salvia's eyes popped open, darting every which way, as if searching for a way out. Practically throwing herself out of bed onto her three good paws, Salvia scampered to one of the burrow's corners.

Heilen approached her slowly, concerned about making Salvia even more frightened. "Calmahush, Salviamouse. Allaalla, justafakeasleepthing, fakeasleepthing." She lit a candle, hoping the soft glow would comfort Salvia.

Burying her head into her paws, Salvia got a hold of herself. "No, it wasn't just a dream. It happened when I was younger Master."

"How tinysmall when allaalla badthings happentoSalviamouse?" Salvia thought for a minute.

"I think-I think I was seven seasons Master." Suddenly Salvia turned ghostly white. Heilen held her breath. Salvia knelt down and pressed her head to the packed sand floor of the burrow. Crawling forward Salvia whispered, "Please, Salviamouse regretasorry Master. No hurtawhip Salviamouse; Salviamouse be goodagood nowon Master." Whimpering as Heilen touched her, Salvia thought miserably, _I never should have left the castle. _

"WhyHighbeast hurtapunish Salviamouse? Salviamouse didado nothingbadabad."

"Salviamouse spoketoMaster in Mousetongue, butMastergive orderacommand thatSalviamouse mustspeakatalk inHighbeasttongue."

Heilen hugged Salvia. "Allaalla isfinegood, Salviamouse. Highbeast promiseaswear tonevera hurtapunish Salviamouse."

Salvia's eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Kneeling down again, she kissed Heilen's footpaws. "Salviamouse verygratefulhappy thatMasteris so kindagood."

"Salviamouse, whereis Salviamouse's oldapast Master?"

Salvia shook. "Salviamouse notknowa exactplaceaspot, Master. Salviamouse knowadoes oldapastMaster isinland."

Heilen set about gathering food from her storage pile. "Then HighbeastandSalviamouse travelajourney atlightadawn. Sleeparest now Salviamouse."


	10. Chapter 10

Salvia woke up an hour before dawn. She always liked getting up that early, being alone with her memories. Despite their horror they gave her a little comfort that she, at one time or another, had been with her sister and the other slaves who had cared about her; recently she had simply felt forgotten. Suddenly, she remembered that she was no longer free to get up and watch the sunrise.

Rolling over onto her side, Salvia looked at her new master. The strange creature was sleeping on a shelf dug into the side of the burrow. Salvia thought her master was something between a mouse and a vole. She thought about everything she had read at the castle and everything she had heard about creatures that lived nearby. Closing her eyes to think, Salvia started from the logical place of the creature's strange dialect.

Tears sprang to her eyes again as she remembered. In a lengthy book about a mouse whom had lived at the castle when it was still a vermin fortress…during one part the mouse was captured by a tribe of pygmy shrews that had enslaved him for a few days. Salvia twitched her footpaws involuntarily as she remembered how the mouse had had a log bound to them. Salvia did not want to have to suffer the humiliation of dragging her new master all the way inland.

_Though you're in no place to complain, are you now?_ Salvia's mind went numb. This was just too much. It was so unfair she had only known a few seasons of happy freedom. Granted, she had been living free for four seasons at the castle, but all the creatures did not, could not, _would not_, understand what Salvia had gone through when she was a slave. So Salvia had become a slave to her thoughts and memories, having constant nightmares and daily depression to deal with among those who would not help her though the pain.

And now, here she was again. Every time she tried to escape, she landed herself in a type of slavery. At any rate this master was not abusive, or at least not yet. Curling up Salvia found herself sinking into the horror of another memory. She fought hard, trying to keep it hidden deep within herself, but the memory prevailed, even with her best efforts.

Tears fell onto the still dirty cabin floor. _What _is_ this sklave? I gave you a simple task; I was lenient with you. And then _this_?I come back to find my cabin half-dirty. _I tried, Master. Really I did. But the guards kept ruining the parts I had already cleaned so I had to go back and redo them, Master. He snarled and picked her up by what little was left of her frayed tunic. Please, Master, I promise it won't happen again. Just don't whip me. He tossed her into the corner. _You lazy oaf! Don't you consider what good care I take of you? I feed you and give you water. _Suddenly his voice dropped into a quiet tone; he was always extra sadistic when he sounded like that. He paced slowly up to where I was huddling in the corner.

He gave placed a footpaw on Salvia's far side, rolling her onto her back. Salvia cringed, she knew what was coming; he had done this so many times before when she had failed him. She tried to ball up, but he was too quick for her. Using his large footpaws and natural jumping ability, he leapt up to the top of the cabin, crashing down heavily into Salvia's emaciated stomach. The wind was knocked out of her. Salvia opened her mouth, trying desperately to suck in air. She had long learned not to cry during this type of punishment – it wasted far too much precious air.

Master had perfected this type of punishment: when he observed that Salvia could breathe again, he would jump onto her stomach again. Salvia lost track of how many more times he thudded onto her stomach. Finally though, her breath came back for good. He mercifully allowed her to keep it this time. She sensed him glaring down at her, and curled up a moment before the next onslaught of pain. Again and again Master kicked her in the side. Carefully, almost tenderly one could say, Master avoided her ribs, aiming lower into her more fleshy sides.

At last, that agony too ceased. Salvia could hear him panting above her. Already she could feel the bruises spreading across her flesh. _You should thank me sklave. _That Salvia should, as much as it sickened her, she should. Last time, Master had carried on beating her, with his heavy whip. It was amazing that she had not died; indeed, she had passed out from all the pain. But enough reminiscing. Salvia needed to thank Master. To be proper, she should at least kneel, but the pain was far too great for even that simple act. So she just murmured her thanks that Master has been kind and merciful to me today.

He sniffed. _Oh, don't think your punishment is finished. You'll be sleeping on deck tonight and you'll spend the remainder of tomorrow with Virt. _Yes, Master. Thank you again. Salvia knew she would get no sleep on the deck in the cold and wet and with the guards to torture her all night. But granted, it wass better than a night with Master, constantly worrying if he would wake up and decide to hurt her for fun. She would need strength for tomorrow; spending a day with Virt was not exactly a picnic. But not as bad as Master…nobeast could be as evil as Master was….

Salvia finally uncurled from her fetal position. She dried her eyes on her rough tunic. The memory was over. She looked over as her master began to stir as faint dawn light crept into the burrow from the opening. Cringing in humiliation, Salvia slid out of the bed, quickly made it, then knelt and bowed her head in front of her master.

Heilen opened her eyes, and rubbing the grit out of them, she stood up to go and wake Salvia. Stumbling forward, she was sent sprawling as she tripped over Salvia. She quickly stood up and dusted herself down. Salvia balled up, trying to mentally prepare herself for the pain that was sure to be coming.

Heilen sighed. It was not going to be easy to teach Salvia to trust her. She placed a gentle paw on Salvia's quaking shoulders and was only rewarded with a soft whimper. Heilen had decided the night before when she was lying awake that she would try to let Salvia come out of her shell on her own.

Speaking gently, Heilen said, "Salviamouse, its dawnlightnow. Salviamouse and Highbeast mustahaveto travelajourney." Salvia slowly uncurled in disbelief at the fact that her master had not at least hit her yet.

"Yes, MasterHeilen." Salvia cautiously stood up and carried the two packs Heilen had put together the previous night. When Heilen did not yell at her for moving without direct permission, Salvia waited patiently for her new master to exit the burrow first. Heilen looked at the kneeling figure of Salvia, before finally understanding.

Heilen dropped onto all fours and crawled up into the sunlight. Salvia stood up, pushing both my packs before her, following her master out. Once out, she was shocked when Heilen had already shouldered one of the packs. "MasterHeilen, Salviamouse needamust carryhold thepacks," Salvia protested. _She_ was the slave, she should be doing the work.

Heilen shook her head. "Salviamouse toosmallatiny tocarryahold allaallaapacks." Heilen shook her head when Salvia opened her mouth to protest.

Salvia hung her head and shuddered. She was becoming much too bold for a slave. If _he_ had been here, she certainly would have been heavily punished. She bowed her head, "Yes, MasterHeilen."

The pair trekked off along the tide line, with Salvia trailing a couple pawsteps behind Heilen. Heilen struggled occasionally as she walked through soft sand, but Salvia easily spread her claws and traveled lightly on top of it. Salvia looked sadly at dark blue ocean water. The sand, the water, it all reminded her of when she was captured. Feeling suddenly paranoid, Salvia whirled her head around, sniffing the air for good measure. Finding nothing, she returned to staring at the sand as she walked.

Looking at Heilen's footpaws, she remembered how the pygmy shrews tied logs to their slaves' footpaws. She shuddered, hoping she would not have to share a similar fate. The pair walked doggedly on as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky.

Around midmorning, Heilen sat down on the sand, breathing hard. Dropping her pack, Salvia began to dig a small shady burrow. Heilen watched approvingly, except her smile turned into a frown when Salvia back out of the overhang; it was only big enough for one of them. Salvia knelt down hurriedly. _Did I displease Master? _"The shadeadark isforyou MasterHeilen." Heilen sighed.

"Butawait, Salviamouse. Highbeast wannayou tobeinthe shadeadarktoo."

Salvia shook her head firmly. "Salviamouse isa workbeast." Heilen sighed again and decided to humor Salvia. Crawling into the shade, she was quite grateful and sat relaxing with her eyes closed for a few minutes. She was about to suggest they eat some breakfast when she heard a small noise in front of her. Opening her eyes, she saw Salvia standing there with enough breakfast for Heilen – but only Heilen.

Heilen's face fell, but she quickly tried to hide, but she was not quite fast enough. Salvia noticed and immediately crawled forward, licking Heilen's footpaws to try to appease her. "Please MasterHeilen. Salviamouse didnotwant tohurtoffend MasterHeilen." Heilen grimaced, wondering what kind of monster would traumatize a young creature like this. Heilen quickly drew her footpaws away in disgust…which was yet another bad idea. Salvia immediately reacted and curled up, expecting to receive a kick or some other type of painful blow.

Heilen felt tears coming into her own eyes as Salvia began to cry quietly, terrified that a beating was coming. "Salviamouse," she murmured, "who hurtapunished youalikethis?"

"M-m-master Grausam," Salvia sobbed.Heilen grasped Salvia's paw.

"Salviamouse, Highbeast wannahelpaheal your mindspirit. Highbeast wannabe Salviamouse's trustfriend, nota hurtmaster. Can Salviamouse trustame?"

Salvia gathered the courage to look Heilen in the eye. "Salviamouse knowanot," she answered truthfully.


	11. Chapter 11

Salvia looked down at her footpaws. Never before had her old master or a guard treated her this kindly. Maybe she should trust, maybe this would be different. She shuddered. No! She was being set up. The only time creature she trusted was Ishmael. From her first day as a slave – tears sprang to her eyes at that painful memory – Ishmael had always apologized, very quietly, but he had apologized nonetheless, whenever he had to hurt her. It was as if he knew something she did not, something that intangibly bonded them together.

Heilen closed her eyes for a minute. Maybe she could gain Salvia's trust if she spoke in Salvia's dialect. Thinking hard, she said, "Salvia, I want to help you." Salvia's head jerked up, and she barely caught herself before she made eye contact with Heilen. She tensed, scared a whack or a kick might be coming. When Heilen did not move, Salvia relaxed slightly.

She began thinking intensely. Heilen had not even hurt her, which was even better than what Ishmael had had to do. Heilen had even spoken in her own dialect.

Heilen watched, Salvia's feelings pasted plainly on her face. She crouched in front of Salvia and placed a gentle paw on Salvia's shoulder. Another bad idea. Salvia immediately curled up, protecting her head and neck with her paws. "Salvia, I don't want to hurt you," Heilen said carefully, struggling slightly with the different dialect. "Why do you think I will?"

Salvia whimpered, then asked a question quietly, "Canamay Salviamouse speakatalk likeMasterHeilen isnow?" She tightened her ball, in case she was going to be punished for asking a question.

"Of course, Salvia," Heilen answered. She looked quizzically at Salvia. "Why were you afraid, just now, that I was going to hurt you?"

"I asked a question, Master, which is insolent behavior for a slave."

Heilen looked sadly at Salvia. "Salvia, I don't want to be your master. I want to be your friend."

Salvia did not bother uncurling, certain she was being set up. "I'm a slave Master. Slaves don't deserve friends; they aren't worthy." Heilen was disgusted, how _dare_ somebeast basically tell this poor, poor creature she was not worthy of kindness and compassion. Heilen drew Salvia into a hug, saying, "Salvia, how did you get away from Grausam?"

Salvia flinched. Nobeast knew the story of her escapade. At the castle she had merely said she had escaped, not caring to share the details of her story with the creatures there. But now she had to answer, her master had asked her a question. Salvia murmured, "I had help, Master." Was that a good enough answer? Or was she going to be punished now? She tried to ball up, but Heilen held on tightly.

"Salvia, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yes, Master," Salvia said simply, wondering when her master would spring a trap on her and hurt her. Heilen looked down her muzzle at Salvia, unconvinced that Salvia believed her.

"I want the truth Salvia," she said softly, "what do you think I'm going to do to you?"

Salvia flinched again, terrified. This was it, as soon as she answered, she would have to endure some kind of brutal punishment. "I thought you were going to beat me Master. Or starve me. Some kind of punishment Master, or I also thought you would make me do something humiliating."

It was Heilen's turn to flinch. She could never do something as cruel as torturing a helpless young one. "Did Grausam do all these things to you?"

Salvia nodded, and added glumly, "Not just him, Master. Almost everybeast else was very cruel as well." Then she gasped in horror, quickly clambering out of Heilen's arms and prostrated in front of the shrew. "Please forgive me Master." What had come over her?

"What is there to forgive Salvia?"

"I-I told you my opinion on something. Slaves aren't supposed to have opinions."

"Let me guess," Heilen said, almost mockingly, "you aren't worthy." Salvia nodded, tears forming in her eyes. Heilen immediately regretted her words. She tried to hug Salvia, but Salvia drew away. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Heilen apologized.

Salvia just shook her head. "Masters don't apologize to their slaves."

Heilen saw an opening and grabbed it. "See, Salvia, if I was your master, I wouldn't apologize, now would I?"

Wiping away her tears with a paw, Salvia said, "I suppose Master."

Heilen could not take it anymore. She thought if she heard herself called Master one more time she would explode. "Salvia, look at me," she said sternly. Salvia obeyed, looking at Heilen's footpaws. "No Salvia, look me in the eye." Salvia still hesitated.

"But Master-"

Heilen gripped Salvia's chin firmly, forcing her head up. "Look at me," she commanded again. Salvia finally obeyed, barely managing to keep eye contact. "Now let's get something straight," Heilen said. She reverted back to her normal gentle tone, "Salvia, I am not your Master. I am your friend." Salvia nodded in an unsure manner, lip quavering a bit, struggling to keep looking in Heilen's black eyes.

Heilen sat down, pulling Salvia down with her. She asked sadly, "Have you ever had a friend?" Salvia looked away, trying hard not to cry. Suddenly, she gave up trying, and began sobbing. It was all too much for her traumatized mind to handle. Heilen gently hugged Salvia again, and this time Salvia willingly let it happen.

"Who were your friends?" Heilen coaxed gently.

Salvia sniffed, trying to control herself. "Auster and Ishmael and…" she paused.

"Who else?" Heilen prodded again.

"My-my sister, I guess. But I'm not sure if she was a friend. She could be mean at times." _Don't worry Sal, I'm gonna be a warrior, I'll get us fwee! _"But, she…she's my sister. It would be wrong to hate her, wouldn't it?" Salvia looked up at Heilen, searching for an answer there. "But, I think she hates me." Tears began to flow again, Salvia's tunic front practically dripping now.

Heilen held Salvia closer. "How could she hate you?" Heilen did not understand, this creature, trembling and crying in her lap, was much too good to be hated.

"Ishmael helped me escape but not her. I'm sure she's jealous now, wherever she is…." Salvia's voice trailed off miserably.

"And who's Ishmael," Heilen asked. She noticed Salvia seemed to be relaxing as she opened up to the shrew. Maybe this was just the thing the young creature needed.

Salvia closed her eyes, thinking hard. "Our half-nephew."

Heilen cocked an eyebrow. "How in the world do you have a half-nephew?" she asked incredulously.

Salvia sighed deeply, "I think this is how it goes. Auster explained this to me."

"Pardon me for interrupting, but who's Auster?"

Salvia looked away again. "My guardian." Heilen looked at Salvia, understanding her eyes.

"Please continue," Heilen said.

Salvia fought to keep her voice from trembling. "I'm hazy on the details. Auster said I was too young to understand everything, but that she would tell me when I was older. Older never came," Salvia added bitterly. "It goes something like this. My father married unwillingly in his clan. It is called the Wustenrenn clan."

"Wustenrenn?"

"It comes from their word for gerbil. The whole clan is of gerbils."

"They speak a different language?" Heilen could not help but find the whole story very fascinating.

Salvia nodded. "I can speak it too. I learned it from my old ma-" She bit her lip. "From Grausam." Her voice trembled as she spoke his name without the title of Master or Captain in front of it.

"He actually taught you?" It made no sense that somebeast as cruel as Grausam seemed to be would teach his slaves anything.

Salvia shook her head this time. "No, I just picked it up. He used it all the time with his guards so I wouldn't understand. I heard it for seasons and just began to understand it.

"But anyway," Salvia continued, "around this time my mother left her clan, the Kurz clan, to join the rogue clan."

"Kurz?"

Salvia blushed. "I don't actually know what it's called, but that's how Gr-grausam referred to it. So, somehow they both ended up in the rogue clan. There's more to it, but Auster wouldn't explain." Salvia took another deep breath. "My father remarried to my mother, and then they had me and Yomi."

"Pardon my asking, you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but was your mother a gerbil as well? You don't look completely gerbil."

"Auster told me she was a hamster. The only feature I really got from her was my cheek pouches. Auster said Yomi looks a lot more like her.

"Then…then they died. Auster wouldn't say, but I think my father was murdered. My mother…I don't know. I wish I did." Salvia's voice was beginning to lose emotion as she talked of past, painful events of which she knew very little.

"But that still does not explain how you have a half-nephew."

Salvia closed her eyes, imagining Auster telling her all of this again. Once she thought she had the story correct, she continued, "Apparently, even though my father and his first wife did not really love each other, 'they had to love each other so there would be somebeast to succeed them to the throne,'" Salvia quoted Auster. She laughed mirthlessly, "I did not quite understand that when I was little, but now I do."

Heilen nodded, but looked a little stunned. It began making sense. Before she could interject, Salvia finished the narrative. "So, as rumor has it, my father's first wife bore a son soon after he had left." She took a painful breath. "Grausam, my half-brother. My Master," she spat. "Then Grausam married and had a son, Ishmael."

"Hold on a minute," Heilen said. "That makes you royal, doesn't it!"

Salvia shrugged. "I guess so."

Heilen smacked herself on the forehead. "No wonder Grausam enslaved you and Yomi. He wanted you out of the way!"

Salvia shook her head, confused. "I don't understand."

"Is Grausam's mother still living?"

"I-I don't know."

"She must not be. Because, think about it, if Grausam was greedy and power-hungry enough, which he seems to be," Salvia nodded, "if she was dead, he would be King of the clan, wouldn't he?"

Salvia nodded, the truth dawning on her as well. "He must have thought if you and Yomi figured it out, you would assassinate him and Ishmael and then you would become the Queen. Which one of you is older?"

Salvia looked away again. "We're twins," she said shyly. "Auster didn't know who was older, but she always said it was me." Salvia paused a minute. "That means if the two of them died, _I_ would be Queen."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yomi awoke, finding that the once-fiery pain in her side had diminished to a dull ache. She twitched when she felt Spion place a paw on her shoulder. "Ishmael wants to know how your feeling," he said slyly.

Yomi accepted a warm canteen from the gerbil. Resting her head on the pillow, she said, "I was hallucinating. You can't fool me now Spion." She glanced down at the canteen. "And what are you trying this time, poison? I'm not stupid."

Spion shook his head and replied indignantly, "I wouldn't try and poison you! It's tea with blue vervain; it'll help with the pain. I gathered some while you were sleeping. Enough to last us the length of our journey." Yomi sniffed the tea warily. It was blue vervain sure enough. She took several long pulls from the canteen.

Then, suddenly, she glared up at Spion. "I'm not going with you," she spat.

Spion sat down next to where Yomi was lying on the floor of the burrow. A reasonable, if condescending, expression settled onto his face. "Well, you just hobble back on home to the fortress. I'm sure Grausam will understand." A split second later his muzzle was pressed against Yomi's. She closed her eyes as his hot breath swirled around her head. "Listen _friend_," a heavy paw at Yomi's throat suggesting he was otherwise, "You have to do what I say. Ishmael's gone. Do you think there's actually a chance he'll make it back? That oaf. Too noble for his own good."

Yomi's eyes darkened. Spion noted with a sense of satisfaction that tears were forming behind her eyes. Closing her eyes, she murmured, "Ishmael can take care of himself. He'll be fine."

"Ah, _he _may turn out all right in the end. But what of us? Grausam would simply kill both of us."

"But you said yourself," Yomi spat angrily, pulling herself up into a sitting position, "Ishmael's too noble. He might be able to turn you in, but he wouldn't do it. And he's practically bound to not turn me in. We're-"

"You're what? Friends? Family? Ha! Don't make me laugh. Ishmael could have saved you from day one. And besides, I heard you arguing with him all the time. He would never agree to free the slaves, would he?" Yomi flinched visibly, as if she had been struck.

Averting her gaze, she said almost inaudibly, "But he was nice to me."

Spion scooted closer to Yomi. He placed his paw on hers. "Then you have a pretty poor definition of nice. He didn't value the fact you put your life on the line spying everyday, did he? He didn't value the fact you would have to do your work, do his work, then go down to your cell and get no reward, did he? He didn't-"

"_Stop._" Yomi did not scream, or even yell, but her voice was like venom. Supporting herself with a paw on the side of the burrow, she managed to stand up, being so short her head came below ground level. "You have no idea what my relationship was with Ishmael."

Spion did not even bother looking up. "Well, I can figure it out. You're not exactly best pals, are ya?" A horrified expression flitted across his face for a moment. He looked up hastily, "You're not in love are you?"

Yomi did a quick jig-like dance, rubbing her paws on her arms, as if trying to brush the idea off her. "Ew ew ew! And have puppies with six toes? No thank you!"

Spion also stood up, being unnaturally short as well. "So, that leaves a working relationship." He spun around, and placing his paws on her shoulders murmured into her left ear, "And working relationships die easily if there's somebeast else that can take the place of the other beast."

Yomi whirled around, grabbing her side ruefully afterwards, then knocked Spion's paws from her shoulders in disgust. "You want me to work with you?"

Spion bowed mockingly. "With me, for me. Take your pick."

"_For_ you? I would never do that! Don't suggest such horrible things, gerbil!"

Spion lounged easily on the side of the burrow, reveling in his power. "Resorting to insulting your own heritage? I didn't think you'd sink that low."

Yomi backed up, feeling for the exit of the burrow. "I'm nothing like you!"

Spion grabbed Yomi by her throat in one swift movement. Whispering fiercely, "You're everything like us, _halfbreed_. Just by saying that, you're pinning your true colors on your sleeve. Don't deny it – you know it's true."

Yomi growled. "Your in no place to say such things about me, _spy_."

"Ha. You're a spy too, you know." Thinking quickly, Spion came up with what he considered quite a good plan. Of course, he thought all of his plans were good.

"At least I _give_ my information, and I give it to the good side."

"It all depends on your definition of good. I could easily say I work for the good side because Grausam takes care of you pesky lot."

"But we were enslaved," Yomi shouted angrily.

"And I could argue slavery is good." Yomi growled again, deep in her throat. Hyperventilating for a few moments to release adrenaline into her blood, she suddenly lunged at Spion, the adrenaline killing any pain she normally would have felt in her side. Spion, guessing this was coming, easily dodged. Thrusting out his right paw, he slammed Yomi against the wall of the burrow. Rolling quickly over the wall, he placed his dirk point at Yomi's throat.

"Yes, but here you're making the assumption that Ishmael used your information for good." Spion grinned inwardly as Yomi's face went ashen.

"He didn't!"

"He most certainly did!" A single tear ran from Yomi's eye.

Almost inaudibly, "He lied to me. He lied to me. And I thought he was risking his life too…." Spion relaxed his dirk so Yomi could slide down onto the floor of the burrow. Her eyes went blank as she kept murmuring over and over, "He lied to me. He lied to me." Soon tears began to fall thick and fast down her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away, just sat there, twisting her paws back and forth in her lap.

Spion took full advantage of the situation he had just created with his lie. Ishmael _was _too noble for his own good; there was no way he'd ever sell Yomi's actual information to Grausam. But Yomi seemed too traumatized by those few words Spion had spoken to think logically and clearly.

He slid down beside her, drawing her into his lap, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "Was I that blind, Spion," she moaned. He simply nodded. She clenched her paws. "I've been such an idiot."

"What if I said I knew how to fix your mistakes?"

Yomi looked up, hope shining in her dripping eyes. "Tell me."

Spion began to gently stroke Yomi's headfur. "Just think logically. Who's the problem?"

"My heart says Ishmael, but my mind says Grausam." She looked angrily at the floor.

"Ah, but your mind should not only say Ishmael as well, it should say…Salvia."

Yomi jerked, looking back up at Spion. "What?" She gasped. "I don't understand."

"Just think about it for a minute. This whole problem comes from the fact the Grausam is the leader of the Wustenrenn clan. Correct?"

"What are you getting at, Spion?"

"Well, supposing Grausam had, ah, an unfortunate 'accident'. Who's next in line?"

"Ishmael," Yomi spat.

"Exactly," Spion agreed. "Then after that?"

Yomi paused for a moment, stunned by the thought.

"Salvia." She leaned back on Spion, amazed. She had never pondered who would be next to rule the Wustenrenn clan. It had seemed like Grausam would go on forever, killing and torturing and capturing slaves, building a fortress, generally being evil.

Spion grinned wolfishly. "And after that?"

Yomi's heart was pounding in her ears. "Me…," she said breathlessly.

"I knew you'd catch on. Now, suppose all three, Grausam, Ishmael, Salvia, all," Spion snapped his fingers, "disappeared."

"Wait," Yomi said in a panic, "You can't kill Salvia."

"Relax, relax, just hear me out. Notice I used the word disappeared. Grausam and Ishmael can just disappear more permanently than Salvia."

Yomi's brow furrowed. "Where would Salvia go?"

"A queen's advisor doesn't necessarily tell her everything right away. Fro her own protection of course."

Yomi gaped. "You-you-you mean, you'd help me become queen of the Wustenrenn clan?"

Spion smiled, and nodded. "There's one regrettable catch, though. When we travel, you'll have to act as my slave. We're much less likely to be attacked if I have the prestige of owning a slave."

Yomi took a deep breath, then nodded in reply. Spion placed a comforting a paw on her shoulder. "That's my brave future queen."

Yomi gingerly stood up, asking, "Why are we going after Salvia first? Wouldn't it make more sense to go after Ishmael and Grausam?"

Spion shook his head. "Salvia's position is relatively unknown, and her movements are, for now, erratic, because her current situation is unknown as well. Grausam's always going to be in or near his fortress or somebeast there will know where he is. Same thing with Ishmael. So, we get the hard disappearance out of the way."

Spion stood up as well. Kissing Yomi's paw, he said, "Shall we journey, my Queen?"

**A/N: This is my longest chapter yet - over 3000 words - and I can tell from my hit counter that more people are reading this. So, please please please _please_ review. Constructive criticism is appreciated.**


	12. Chapter 12

Virt idly drummed his footclaws, slumping moodily back in his chair. Nobeast had told him being Zweite meant sitting around doing nothing, other than giving orders a few times a day and reporting to Grausam. While Virt was not the brightest acorn in the bushel, he was by no means an idiot, and the boredom was beginning to wear on him. One could only sleep so long, and eat so much food, torture so many slaves….

Fine, maybe this job was not _so_ bad. He had become quite partial to candied fruit, after all. Glancing out the window, Virt determined he deserved another morning snack. Heaving himself up with a heavy sigh, Virt slouched over to the myriad of bellcords. He sorted through the tangled ropes, and finding the one labeled kitchen and tugging it, he returned to his chair with yet another deep sigh.

Less than a minute later, there came a timid knock at the door. Rolling his eyes, Virt growled, "If I ordered you to come, you can assume I want you to come in." The door squeaked open, a mousewife peering around the door. She kept her paw on the doorknob, muscles bunched tightly together. Virt blinked his eyes in surprise. It was the mousewife that Grausam had been torturing the night of the esca-the execution, he quickly told himself. He could not think of it as an escape, could not risk making a slip, could not risk failing Grausam.

His quick self-reminder over, Virt peered up, noticing the mousewife still stood in the threshold, legs trembling rather visibly. Sitting up properly, Virt suddenly stabbed his dagger down into the desktop, making the mousewife flinch and give a little squeak. "Get in here and show me the proper respect, _sklave_." Virt smiled when the mousewife did what she was bid at once, shutting the door, then kneeling down, putting her head onto the floor.

Pasting on his most fake benevolent smile, Virt grabbed the slave's chin and directed her gaze up into his face. The mousewife quickly dropped her eyes onto the floor, eyes widened with fright. "Look at me," he said quietly. She sucked in her breath, then shifted her gaze upwards. Virt saw her flinch and nearly look away again, before managing to make eye contact. Using his free paw, Virt gently placed it against the mousewife's neck. After feeling her Adam's apple bobbing up and down, he moved it along to where he could feel her pulse. His incisors showed in a vicious splash of yellow as he felt her heartbeat drumming away like lightning as her fear was causing adrenaline to race through her body.

Feeling behind with the paw that had been holding the mousewife's chin, he yanked his dagger from the tabletop. In a quick blur, he used his left paw to push her head forward and away from him, the keen edge of the dagger now resting against her brown neckfur. Her breathing began to come in ragged gasps, tearing at her lungs and throat, like two nights ago when Grausam had been interrogating her. Her vision blurred, spots dancing in front of her, beckoning her to die and come to them. _No_! She could not die yet. Her son still might be alive and in need of his mother's care. And what of her daughter? Firedew was strong, but Hefra could not just abandon her to live the life of a slave alone.

"Please don't kill me, Zweite," Hefra whispered, trying not to move her neck. The paw clenched harder, squeezing the pressure points on her neck. Her whole body drew up into itself, reacting to the pressure. Sticking his dagger back into his belt, but still keeping his paw firmly around Hefra's neck, Virt clasped her paw. He paused a second, waiting until the mousewife chanced a glance down to her paw.

"I didn't hear you, sklave," Virt murmured into her ear. He struck like a snake – jamming a claw into the pressure point on her wrist, he laughed over her yelling. Sitting back onto his heels, Virt wrapped his tail slowly around Hefra's neck. She did not notice; she was rather occupied with screaming. Releasing both paws, he drew her close to his face, snuffling as an awful stench of ungroomed animal and filth entered his muzzle.

"Now, do you understand me?" When she did not answer, Virt gave her a little shake.

"Yes, Zweite," she managed to gasp, tears of pain still leaking from her eyes.

"Oh, _dearie_ me," Virt mocked, "I seemed to have forgotten what you wanted me to do. You had better tell me again."

Hefra shuddered with humiliation. "Please don't kill me, Zweite," she mumbled.

Virt tutted. He slid a paw slowly down her shoulder, edging it towards her wrist. "I said before I couldn't hear you."

Hefra flinched, trying to jerk her arm out of Virt's grasp. He just pulled her closer. "I said I couldn't hear you _sklave_."

"Please don't kill me, Zweite," Hefra repeated again, but only at a normal volume, still timid.

Virt shook his golden head. "I didn't want to have to do this," he said merrily. Hefra's screams echoed through the room again as he ground his claw into her pressure point.

"Please don't kill me, Zweite," she shrieked out between gasps for air. After a final cruel dig, Virt released his claw.

"Much better, slave. You're learning." He nodded his head knowingly. "You have good potential."

"Potential, Zweite?" Virt wrapped his arm around her, leading Hefra to the window, keeping it wrapped around her shoulders firmly, preventing any unlikely escape attempts. He drummed his claws lightly on the side of her shoulder, grinning behind her as she quaked.

"Yes, potential," he affirmed. He peered out the window, from where he could see many slaves laboring away in the orchard. A particular slave caught his eye; he guessed the slave was in her young adult seasons, but it as always hard to tell since the younger creatures who had almost always lived as slaves had stunted growth and were quite underweight. But Virt's ego said his guess was correct.

He pointed idly with one of his left claws at the mousemaid he had seen. "Potential to agree to whatever terms I happen to suggest to protect her." Hefra's breath caught in her throat as she watched Firedew carrying a heavy basket of apples across the orchard, occasionally being whacked with spear handles or whips, wincing or yelping each time.

Virt backed off slightly, sitting on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs. He reached around behind him, found the handle of his wine goblet, and took a sip. Hefra stood, rigid, still watching her daughter. Virt cocked his eyebrows impudently as the mousewife spun around. "You wouldn't hurt her," Hefra chattered, her voice squeaking an octave above its normal pitch.

"Watch me." Virt smirked, reaching off-handedly towards the bell-rope label Guards.

"No!" Hefra felt adrenaline shoot to her brain as she sprang forward, clamping her jaws onto Virt's paw. He yelled in pain as he felt warm blood pooling out onto his fur; he instinctively kicked upwards with a footpaw, slamming it hard into Hefra's face. Her head recoiled, but her adrenaline kept her from feeling anything except a little dazed. She leapt up again at Virt, clawing ferociously at his chest and trying to pull him off the table. This time Hefra no longer had the element of surprise, Virt was ready – he slammed his wine goblet forward onto her head even as she succeeded in using herself as an anchor to pull him off the table.

Hefra realized she had made a mistake as soon as she and Virt toppled to the floor. He was on top of her and easily held the weight and height advantage. Her adrenaline rush gone, she simply slumped on the floor, where Virt's left paw now held her pinned to the ground by the throat. With his injured right paw he reached out, and with an unnecessary flourish, pulled the bell-cord labeled guard contemptuously.

For a few minutes silence reigned in the room, other then Virt's panting and Hefra's terrored hyperventilating. Then the guards appeared, and pandemonium ensued once more. Two guards slammed spear points to Hefra's throat and hauled her upright, expertly binding her: paws behind her back connected with a tight rope to the short rope that connected her footpaws, a lead that could be easily tightened around her neck. Two more guards assisted Virt, one helping him to stand up as the other deftly made a poultice and bound Virt's bleeding paw.

Without bothering to thank the two guards that had helped him, Virt went to straight to dealing with Hefra. Despite the sharp pain running up and down his paw, he managed to smirk at her when he noticed her black eye and a large yellow bruise spreading across her head. He growled and shoved his face down into Hefra's bowed one. She shook even more as his hot breath caused her neckfur to rise and prickle.

"Well, not so daring now, are you," he spat rather literally, watching Hefra flinch. Nobeast moved for a full minute – Virt kept breathing down Hefra's neck, Hefra's two guards still kept one spear to her neck and a tight hold on her lead, the two guards that had assisted Virt remained alert, ready should Hefra try any surprising rebellious moves.

Virt soon grew bored and his paw was beginning to feel like it was on fire and his head was pounding. He shoved Hefra down onto her knees and motioning for the guard to force her head onto the floor. After he stalked over to his desk and plopped moodily down into the chair, Virt growled, "Take her to the _special_ dungeon." The guard holding the rope let out some slack and the other guard withdrew her spear point so Hefra could rise. "Wait," hissed Virt, who was now having to clench his left paw under his desk to keep from showing any pain. "_Drag_ her there."

"Yes, Zweite," said the guards, grinning as they dragged the crumpled mousewife out of Virt's room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ishmael lurked far into the shadows of where several squads of heavily armed guards – both for long-range and paw-to-paw combat – stood on duty around the area where the slaves where performing wall repairs. He rolled his eyes at his father's paranoia, the only creatures left free in the woodlands would not dare to be out of their homes unprotected and unaccompanied, let alone approach the fortress in the dead of night.

Rubbing his headfur nervously, he shifted from paw to paw. As much as Yomi could annoy the Dark Forest out of him, she could have been in and out of the fortress by now bursting with information.

But he was going it alone now, and he could handle it. As Zweite, Ishmael knew everything his father did, well, actually more thanks to Yomi. The only thing left to guesswork was what actions Grausam would have taken now; it did not matter that much, as long as Ishmael could get in and out, without getting caught.

Ishmael took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart and muttered under his breath to make sure his voice was even and normal sounding. Flicking up his hood, he paced evenly up to who he "assumed" was in charge. "Stop right there," the squad leader ordered. Several archers pulled back arrows on their bows, training them on Ishmael's head and heart.

Ishmael snapped his paws onto his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I was just interested in-"

"You could be interested in squirrels with potatoes for heads for all I care. Nobeast gets into the fortress without Grausam's approval. During the day. And unarmed." The head gerbil put his paws on his hips. "Excuse me, _sir_, but it appears to be neither daytime nor do I assume you are unarmed. As such, my archers will escort you back to the woodlands." The head gerbil waved nonchalantly with a paw, three archers stepped forward, still training their bows on the hooded figure.

Once in the woodlands, Ishmael darted away and disappeared. The archers looked around, unsure where their charge had gone. The head guard would be disappointed if they returned back without a body. Ishmael moved swiftly, trying to remember what Yomi had taught him. Walk of the balls of your footpaws. Blend with the shadows. Breathe lightly through your nose.

Winding behind the archers, he approached and ran along the wall perimeter. Once he was a fair distance from the guard squads, he yelled out in a deeper voice, "He's trying to run away!" His eyes followed the head gerbil's headlong dash into the woodlands, followed by all the guards on duty. Ishmael sprinted forward, whipping around to the inside of the perimeter wall. Not daring to pause, he continued running in a crouch until he reached the relative safety of a small alcove by the gatehouse.

Ishmael closed his eyes. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Soon silence reigned, just as Ishmael had hoped. The gerbil heading up the guard squads was ambitious and a little sadistic, but would not want to make a disturbance during the middle of the night. Grausam would probably get angry and demote him.

Ishmael's eyes flew open. He slid the door to the entrance hall open. He mentally thanked the slaves who kept it so well oiled when they cleaned. He shut it quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the soft torchlight. Even though he hated his former position as Zweite, this place held some good memories for him. He placed a paw on the cool sandstone wall, he could almost his mother's voice.

He turned his head away violently. He had a job to do, this was no time for reminiscing! He pattered across the entrance hall, pulling out his key ring as he did so. He quickly found the correct key that went to a smallish door, leading to the back staircases. Grausam went for the extravagant when building his fortress – forcing his slaves to build these for his family's use. Now, ever since the death of Ishmael's mother, Grausam refused to use them. Ishmael pretended like he did not either when his father was present, though he had a copy of the key made for Yomi, to help in her various espionage activities. He unlocked the door, opened it, then relocked it behind him.

Nobeast should be in these now. He followed one of the spiral staircases upwards. He approached another door at the top of the staircase, chose another key, unlocked it, then relocked it before trotting out onto a catwalk above the entrance hall. He looked down, enjoying being so high off the ground. He wound his way around two catwalks to another door. Following the same procedure, Ishmael now found himself ascending a simple wooden staircase, not spiraled like the rest.

The final door. This door did not have a normal padlock or door lock on it, this door had a combination lock. Ishmael spun the dial, pulling it open, pushing the door open and letting out a sigh of relief. That turned into a gasp of shock.

Make that two gasps of shock.

Virt rubbed his eyes, too surprised to do anything. Ishmael, however, recovered quickly, drawing his dirk. "What're you doing here?" Ishmael asked, body rigid.

Virt glared, thwacking a footpaw onto the ground. "I was promoted. What did you think? It's not like _you're_ here anymore."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

"What about it?"

"That means I'm still Zweite because I was never demoted." Virt had been groping around behind him and he finally located his dirk on the nightstand. He leapt forward, trying to stab Ishmael in the arm or shoulder. Ishmael dodged, turned on his heel, slamming Virt up to the wall. He lifted up his dirk in his other paw.

Virt's pupils dilated as he panicked, struggling against Ishmael's grip. Virt snapped his head forward, knocking it on Ishmael's collarbone with a nasty crack. Ishmael's dirk clattered to the floor as he yelled in pain. Virt used a footpaw to pull Ishmael's dirk over, then rubbed his head, wincing.

Ishmael gritted his teeth in pain, tears of pain leaking from his eyes. Flinching as Virt approached him, he put up a protective paw above his face. "Listen, Virt," Ishmael panted as sweat formed on his brow, "let me get what I came here for and I'll be on my way."

"I can't let you do that, mate," Virt spat, panting as well from the brief scuffle. "You're worth more to me here."

"What, just so you can kill me?" Ishmael gasped, grasping lower neck and chest as waves of pain shot through his body.

"Not that either, mate. You're worth more to me alive than dead. What would you do to keep Grausam from knowing where you are or knowing where that little mousebabe is?"

Ishmael paled. "You found him? But…but how?"

Virt tapped his nose. Then shrugged. "I dunno. You figure that out. It's too late for to do anything anyway."

Ishmael looked down, fighting more pain. He looked up, more tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Virt furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about gerbil?"

Ishmael took one last deep breath, looking at his footpaws. "This." Yelling in pain and exertion, Ishmael threw himself forward, extending his paws. They wrapped on around the paw Virt had on his dirk. Ishmael slammed it forward into his own throat, pushing it in past the trachea and out through his jugular vein.

He crumpled onto the ground, blood spurting out onto himself, onto the floor, and all over Virt as well. Ishmael's mouth gaped as he tried desperately to get air to his lungs, but failed. Blood flowed every as his heart killed itself. Ishmael kicked his legs feebly, mouth gaping, tongue poking out, silently screaming.

Then all was still. Virt approached Ishmael's corpse, hardly able to believe that the gerbil had committed suicide. Virt flinched, and as he darted back, said "Ishmael?" But it was merely Ishmael's nerves twitching after death. Virt knelt down, not caring that his legfur and footpaws and tunic hem became soaked in Ishmael's blood - which still was running from Ishmael's neck – and placed his right paw against the horrible throat wound. Clenching it, he looked down at Ishmael's now blank eyes. "Why?" he asked again, though the silent room did not reply.


	13. Chapter 13

Salvia ducked her head, covering it with both paws. She could not believe herself; how long had she been speaking to Heilen without addressing her properly? All her tears were gone, so Salvia was merely left with a burning pressure at the back of her eyes. She knelt down in front of Heilen, her head sagged forward, cringing. "Please forgive me Master," she choked out, her breath coming in wheezy gasps.

Heilen felt a burning pressure against her own eyes. She thought she had actually been making progress with Salvia! Rage welled up inside her. "Salvia, I told you not to call me that!" Heilen fairly spat. Heilen's vicious words caused Salvia to huddle even closer to the sand. A few of Salvia's remaining tears strayed down her cinnamon cheekfur: so this was Heilen's true personality.

Heilen glared ferociously, with an uncharacteristic growl of anger, down at the young creature groveling in front of her footpaws. Without even thinking, Heilen lashed out with a footpaw, catching Salvia's shoulder. There was a sickening _crack _as Salvia's shoulder came loose from its socket. Salvia whimpered, afraid that any more noise would cause her to bring even more punishment down upon herself.

Heilen gasped, sickened at the fact she had just kicked a poor young creature, one that she had offered to care for. She was a monster, just like Grausam was. She too hung her head. "Salvia, I need to leave you. It's not safe for you to be around me." Heilen stood up sprinted off to the north, trying to get as far as possible from the young creature she had harmed.

Salvia groaned in pain, little balls of fire exploding within her arm whenever she attempted to move it. She stuck her other paw in her mouth, biting down hard against the agony as she forced herself to sit up against a side of the shelter she had dug. Salvia took the paw from her mouth, in too much pain even to glance at the blood droplets and teeth marks left on it. She looked down at the arm that was now hanging at an awkward angle, limp, from her left shoulder.

Still moaning every so often, Salvia examined it. Her eyes clamped shut as a particularly sharp burst of pain took its toll on her. Panting when it ended, she took a deep breath. She had always wanted to be a healer and the healer at the castle had been trying to teach her a few basic things. Now was her chance to try one of those things out.

Salvia closed her eyes.

Salvia took a deep breath.

Salvia screamed.

Her shoulder clicked back in place, connecting back with the socket. She panted, though the initial pain had now been reduced to a sharp, throbbing ache. Furrowing her eyebrows as she tried to remember what to do next, Salvia settled on the fact that she needed to put her arm in a sling. She fished around in the packs, while glancing over her shoulder, wondering if Heilen might come back and punish her. The deeper, more logical part of her brain told her nothing of the sort would happen. Smelling the air and listening intently with her one ear, Salvia again ascertained that Heilen was nowhere nearby.

Salvia gently avoided using her left arm. Finally, after two or three minutes, Salvia withdrew her paw from the food sacks. She clutched a long ground sheet that Heilen had packed for when they made camp on wet, cold, or mucky ground. Setting into it with her sharp incisors, Salvia hacked the sheet into a long wide strip. Salvia, working slowly with only one paw, wrapped the strip around her left arm and behind her neck. Once her arm was in a more comfortable position, she took the remainder of the ground sheet, rolling it within the sling to make it more comfortable.

Salvia leaned back against the packs, basking in the warm sun. She smiled at her bound arm, pleasantly surprised at the skill with which she had healed it. Salvia blinked slowly, feeling sluggish. Surprisingly, now that she was alone in broad daylight, she felt much more relaxed and at ease.

She watched the blue ocean waves lap the shoreline, about twenty pawpaces away. Strange, how the ocean could seem so peaceful now, but yet so violent when she was a shipslave. Salvia felt herself dozing, but did not bother to try to stop doing so.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Heilen's paws pounded against the sand. Breaths were sucked in painfully, and let out quickly as she panted. She was already clutching at her side, a painful cramp doubling her over. Heilen finally gave it up as a lost cause.

She plopped down on the side of a dune, huffing. Heilen touched a paw to her face, finding it wet with tears. Heilen buried her head in her paws. What had she done? First she had pretended to enslave Salvia. Then promised that she was her friend. Then hurt her. Then left Salvia there on the sand.

"Huh!" Heilen gasped as a paw encircled her neck. The paw pulled her over backwards.

"'Ello, mate." Heilen's black eyes widened and rolled in her head. "What is a beast like ye a doin' out 'ere, all alone?"

"Whatdoes evilbaddabeast wannawithme?" The pirate cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward on her right leg.

"Lissen mate," the pirate inspected her claws, releasing Heilen's neck, but still bent close to Heilen's face,"we can do this 'ere my way, or yer way. Take yer pick." The pirate grinned wickedly, now fiddling with her cutlass. She backed away from Heilen, only to begin taking large open practice swings with it, coming dangerously close to Heilen's head; the pirate seemed to be totally ignoring Heilen as she danced back and forth with her cutlass.

Heilen could almost hear her heart pounding away in her chest, both her temples pulsating as well. Rolling over onto all four paws, Heilen took off across the sand. The pirate leapt forward like a cat. Still weary, Heilen barely made it two pawsteps before the pirate hit her in a flying tackle around the ankles. Heilen gave a muffled scream as her mouth filled with hot, gritty sand. A wave of panic flooded the shrew's body as her lungs began to burn. Finally, still fighting, her head was wrenched from the sand by the pirate, who had been pinning her down.

The pirate flipped Heilen over onto her back. "Now mate," the pirate continued,"iffen ye do what I asks ye too, I may this 'ere incident into my head and remember it, or forget it." She spun her cutlass up in an arc, catching it by the hilt, holding the keen edge of the blade over Heilen's stomach. "Fifty-fifty chance ain't that bad, eh mate?" As dizzy panic and fear settled into Heilen's gut, she thought she might finally understand how Salvia felt. She moaned as the pirate jabbed her cruelly in the stomach with her free paw, claws extended. "I _said_," the pirate repeated,"that ain't bad, right mate?" Heilen squeaked and managed to nod.

The pirate pressed her cutlass into Heilen's intestines. "Now mate, supposin' ye try something stupid, like _not_ a doin' what I say, well then, you'll be a meetin' Mr. Cutlass, won't ye?"

"Whatadoes evilbaddabeast wannaneed Heilen todo?"

The pirate smiled. Heilen's eyes expanded in dread. "I be a wantin' ye to come wit me and pay a liddle visit to a friend o' yers."

"Salvia…." Heilen groaned. The pirate's smile now extended from ear to ear. For fun, she gave Heilen another prod in the stomach.

"Ye landlubbers are all the same. I didden even a know about this 'ere 'Salvia' critter 'til ye just a told it to me." Tears reformed in Heilen's eyes. Add death or re-enslavement to the list of things she had done to Salvia. The pirate pulled Heilen to her footpaws. "Now, I want ye to take me to this liddle friend o' yers." Heilen took a breath, hesitating. "Stupid beast!" the pirate roared. Swinging the cutlass through the air so fast it pierced Heilen's paw, she also tackled Heilen, holding her in place with a knee.

Heilen yelled, blood surging out onto her pawfur. She continued sobbing, unable to fight the pain in silence. "I a warned ye, shrew," said the pirate in a remarkably level and even tone of voice. "Iffen ye didden do as I asked ye, yew'd be a meetin' my 'ere cutlass." The pirate stood up, tugging Heilen up by her hurt paw. Heilen screamed even louder.

"Now," said the pirate, with a jab in the back for good measure,"yer a gonna take me to yer friend? Clear?" Heilen nodded. "Good." The pair began walking back the way Heilen had come when she had left Salvia. After about fifteen minutes, they reached the top of a dune overlooking the spot where Salvia lay, dozing, one arm in a sling.

Heilen opened her mouth, about to call out to Salvia to run. The pirate pulled her back over to the other side of the dune, using a paw to force Heilen's face into the sand again. The pirate coolly waited until Heilen's struggles grew very feeble before allowing her to come up for air. Heilen gasped, gratefully sucking in lungfuls of air.

While the shrew was still panting, the pirate pulled her around. "Lissen mate, every time ye try summat like that, ye'll a get this same 'ere punishment." Heilen kept wheezing, but nodded furiously. "Now, I want ye to get yerself down there and get that there 'Salvia' back up 'ere in two minutes."

"And if I don't?" Heilen murmured. This earned her another suffocating minute in the sand. As soon as the pirate released her grip, Heilen scrambled down the dune to Salvia.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Salvia's eyes flickered open when she sensed another creature standing over her. She jumped, wincing as the movement jolted her arm. "What do you want," she snapped. Salvia gasped at herself internally. Where were these bold words coming from? Heilen was still technically her master; this would certainly earn her punishment. But Salvia couldn't take groveling to a small shrew any longer.

"Please Salvia," Heilen begged softly, dark eyes wet, "you need to come with me." Salvia just cocked an eyebrow idly.

"I'm rather busy," she said, enjoying the feeling of responding casually without much fear.

Heilen took a deep breath. _Hot sand trickling down my throat. _"I'll be punished if you don't Salvia."

Salvia snapped. Standing up, she glared, feeling hot rage emanate from within her. "Oh, like that matters. So you just want me to give up my freedom _again_ to save you from your mistakes! Nice try, Heilen. I'm not doing something stupid just to help you."

"Salvia, you don't understand," Heilen pleaded. "I'll be killed if you don't come with me."

Salvia drew back her unbound arm, and slapped Heilen full across the face. Shocked at her own actions, but still acting boldly, Salvia scooped up the food pack that also contained supplies. Turning on her heel, she began to walk away from where Heilen stood, still begging Salvia to stay silently with her eyes.

Salvia turned though, when she heard a muffled yell that was quickly silenced. A rat dressed as a pirate stood pressing Heilen's head into the sand. Salvia froze, eyes shifting from the pirate, to Heilen, behind her back, and back to the pirate again. The pirate released Heilen's head, springing at Salvia.

Salvia gasped, but could not move fast enough. Before she could even struggle, the pirate had her on her knees, paws pinned behind her. "Get a rope out, shrew." Heilen hurried to obey. Digging around in the pack Salvia had been carrying, she came up with a small coil of rope. She handed it to the pirate, who then booted her out of the way. Heilen rubbed her aching nose as she watched the pirate truss Salvia up.

Salvia's paws were bound behind her back, then she was forced to stand. A short length of rope was run between her footpaws, which was then connected with a too-short rope back up to the knot binding her paws together. Salvia was then made to kneel again, the pirate using her cutlass to keep Salvia's head bowed.

Salvia tasted bile welling up in her throat, feeling as if the earth was spinning beneath her. Vomit spewed all over the sand and the pirate's footpaws. The pirate emitted something that sounded like "ew" before growling at Salvia: "Lick it off." Salvia lowered her head, turning bright red under her fur, conscious of the fact that Heilen was watching her. Salvia's neck fur prickled as the pirate's cutlass point was lowered to her neck. "I said, _lick it off_."

Salvia whimpered, feeling her spirit crumbling. Huddling and moaning, she extended her tongue, but flinched as she felt it touch cutlass blade. "I didden 'ear ye respond to my command, slave." Salvia deflated, her fate now certain. Heilen felt a horrible rushing feeling in her head, now knowing she _had_ basically re-enslaved Salvia.

"Yes, ma'am," Salvia cringed. The pirate flared up.

"Don't ye _dare_ call me ma'am. It's Master Agia to ye."

"Yes, Master Agia," Salvia sniveled.

"Now start licking," ordered Agia.

"Yes Master Agia," Salvia answered, her voice filled with sadness.


	14. Chapter 14

Captain Agia sat on the deck of her ship, enjoying the sunny fall day. She leaned her head back onto the pillow placed at the head of her chair, footpaws resting on top of slave's back. Agia smiled slightly, watching her paw-rest slave squirming silently in pain as Agia kept jabbing him in the back where some of his various welts and wounds were exposed. She sighed; she wanted to play with a slave that would give her the satisfaction of succumbing to the pain and pleading for mercy. That thought brought an even larger smile to the pirate captain's face.

She signaled to a passing sailor. "Bring that new'n ta me." The sailor looked confused and paused. Agia hurled her flagon at the sailor, who just managed to catch it, and said, "Th' yellow-bellied a grovelin' un. And go about a bringin' me more wine."

This time the sailor understood and hurried off, still clutching the wine flagon. Agia looked down at her paw-rest slave and used her footpaws to shove him outwards. He curled up instinctively, waiting for another inevitable blow. And, as expected, it came, knocking the breath out of him. Agia growled, "Go and a do some 'onest labor in th' galley, slave."

The slave froze as he was standing. "But, Captain, I need your written permission to go there."

Agia smiled at him. "Ye be a thinkin' I dunno tha'?" The slave tried hard not to cry as a huge lump swelled up in his chest. He didn't have much time to feel miserable as the sailor Agia had just spoken with returned, force-marching the "yellow-bellied groveling" slave in front him, who was attempting to balance a tray loaded with a full flagon and heavy pitcher of wine without spilling a drop. The task was made significantly more difficult by the fact that all of Salvia's limbs were trembling uncontrollably. With the sailor's dagger point at the back of her neck, she tried to gently set the tray down, but only succeeded in spilling wine from the overfilled flagon and pitcher.

The sailor immediately kicked her down, and was preparing to beat her when Agia intervened. "Stop," she ordered the sailor. "Tha' un will _currently_ be usele' iffen ye be a injurin' 'er." Salvia shuddered at the way the pirate had emphasized the word currently. "Go be a returnin' ta yer duties."

"Aye, Captain," said the sailor reluctantly, before leaving his captain.

"Now th'n, slave," said Agia, turning back to the creature in front of her, "wha' is yer name a bein'?" Salvia didn't stop shaking.

"S-S-S-Sal-Salvia, Captain," she managed to stutter.

"Well, th'n, Salvia, I didden be a supposin' tha' ye be a knowin' tha' ye now be a owin' me twice as much blood as the wine ye just be a spillen'?" Agia nodded towards the tray now splattered with wine droplets, which had only, in fact, fallen on the tray, not onto anybeast.

Large salty tears fell from Salvia's black eyes; she didn't even bother to try to stop them. What was the point? Agia kicked her slave roughly. "Are ye gonna be apologizin' and a beggin' or no'?"

Salvia curled up and tried to give Agia what she wanted. "Please, Captain, I'm sorry. Don't hurt me...don't hurt me...don't hurt me..." Salvia's voice trailed off to a frightened whimper as Agia stood up, drawing a whip. The pirate let her boots fall slowly, menacingly, until she hovered over the curled form of Salvia. Agia let the tail of the whip fall onto the deck by Salvia's head with a _thunk_. It was only after Agia had lifted it that Salvia screamed, "_Please don't hurt me, Master! Please! Mercy!_"

Agia smiled and folded her paws against her chest. "I am a bein' quite amus'd." Agia began to circle Salvia like a shark. Her movements were slow, but predatorial. "I be a 'avin' no mercy."

Heilen was supposed to be cleaning Agia's cabin, per the Captain's orders, but she was trying her paw at rebellion. Agia had not ordered a guard to watch her, deeming that various threats of punishment for uncompleted would keep the shrew on task. Heilen wanted no part of that.

She had watched Salvia be humiliated and punished for "crimes" all afternoon as Agia and some of her sailors, who had been in other parts of the dunes, slave-hunting, had led them back to the ship, the _Elend_. They had paid her little attention, preferring the horribly disturbing reactions of Salvia, who was basically willing to comply with all their demands to do the tasks assigned to her to keep them from punishing her. Heilen herself had vomited before the day was over, just from watching Salvia re-assume the role she had been in for most of her life.

So now, Heilen wanted to make a point to the pirate, for both Salvia and herself. Instead of cleaning and polishing, the shrew spent her day searching the cabin carefully. She tried to put everything back where she had found it, stayed as silent as possible, and paused whenever there was noise outside of the cabin. However, when Heilen heard a noise, she didn't immediately act as if she was doing her work; she _was_ going to rebel, someway, somehow. And she wanted the pirates to know that.

Heilen placed an ear to the cabin door, and, satisfied that nobeast was close by, she edged it open...only to discover the reason why.

All the sailors off duty had congregated a deck below her. Heilen heard a commotion: loud shouting, laughing, jeering, but loudest of all, the crack of a whip and a high-pitched voice screaming and begging. The shrew raced to the edge of the deck, and looked down. Moments later, she was instead racing to the side of the ship, vomiting over the railing.

As she leaned out over the water, Heilen was treated to more screams. She stumbled back to her vantage point and attempted to make sense of what was going on below. One of the larger sailors was wielding a whip and shouting, "Bets fer stroke eleven, bets fer stroke eleven!" Another sailor, the one that had written down the approximate worth of Salvia and Heilen, was scribbling down the bets that were being shouted thick and fast by the sailors. Once the calls had mostly stopped - it was hard to tell since once done betting the sailors would begin jeering - the large whip-wielding sailor delivered stroke eleven, smashing the whip across Salvia's unprotected back; Heilen couldn't believe they hadn't even afforded her the minimum protection of her tunic.

As Salvia screamed and writhed what little she could against the tight knots binding her paws, Heilen discovered what the bets were for. The large sailor called above the crowd, "Now, cummon, cummon, she'll be a pleadin' fer us ta be a killin' 'er and end it soon now. She's close ta it, I be a knowin' it!"

_Here's your chance to rebel_, thought Heilen nervously. She leapt onto the deck below, recklessly, and sprinted around the circle of sailors until she was behind the large one, now hitting Salvia again. "Stop! She's more valuable to you alive than dead."

The large sailor turned and the eyes of the other sailors trained onto Heilen. The large sailor transferred the whip to his other paw and shook out his arm. "I think we'll be a bettin' on ye after we be a finishin' wid 'er."

"Well, I fer one, am a bein' innerested in what th's un got ta say fer 'erself." Agia gripped Heilen tightly about the neck. "Especially since she's supposed to be a workin'." Agia gestured with her free paw. "Throw th't un in the bilges." The large sailor reluctantly stowed his whip in his belt and dragged Salvia down below.

"So, slave, why is th't un so special fer us to be a keepin'?"

Heilen nervously shifted. "Because...she's royalty and is wanted by the king of her nation. Surely he would offer you a nice reward for returning her to him."

Agia raised her eyebrows. "Well, I am a hopin' ye can be a livin' wid yerself after a sellin' yer mate out like th't." The large sailor had just emerged back on deck, swinging his whip again, looking quite pleased. "Take th's un down as well."

Salvia sat, chained to the wall, up to her waist in salt water. No matter how she sat, at least some of her wounds were exposed to the brine, causing extreme pain. She cried to herself, drawing her knees up to her chest. She heard the hatch open again and moaned, and somehow found the strength to drag herself onto her knees.

The fur on her neck rose as the large sailor glared at her. He silently chained Heilen across from her, but did not miss the opportunity to knock Salvia completely into the water before he left the pair. Salvia didn't sit up until she heard the hatch close; her screaming finally subsided as most of her wounds left the burning water.

She refused to look at Heilen, even though she knew the shrew was watching her. "Salvia," started the shrew.

"Don't," Salvia said quietly. "Please."

"Salvia, I just want to help you."

"That's what they say when they punish me."

Heilen felt her stomach drop out from under her. "Salvia-"

"What did you tell them?"

"I saved your life."

"They wouldn't have killed me. I'm too fun for them," said Salvia bitterly.

"Salvia, I'm sorry, I thought they were going to murder you in cold blood."

Salvia's head jerked up. "You don't understand. It wouldn't be cold blood. I'm their slave; they can do whatever they want to me because they own me." She looked imploringly at Heilen. "What did you tell them?"

Heilen could not meet Salvia's eyes, "I told them that Grausam would give them a reward for your return."

Salvia began to cry harder. Heilen tried to reach out and touch her, but Salvia jerked away. "Go away," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her head in her paws. "You're just as bad as they are." Heilen stretched a paw out, trying to comfort Salvia. The shrew's paw barely brushed Salvia's fur, but she still whined in pain and drew away instinctively.

Just then, the hatch to the hull crashed open again. Agia jumped down into the water swishing around the bottom of the bilges. "Now, 'ow I 'ate ta be a inneruptin' th's 'ere touchin' event, but," Agia strode over to Salvia, "I be a needin' a 'eading ta where I'll be a turnin' ye in. And no lies!" Agia accented her last sentence by kicking Salvia roughly. Salvia cringed and tried to make herself as small as possible.

"I don't know Captain," she said in a small voice. Agia growled and kicked her again more savagely then before.

"Do ye be a thinkin' me stupid?" Agia thundered. Heilen couldn't believe what she had gotten Salvia into as she watched the young creature shake her head, almost imperceptibly. Agia kicked Salvia again. "I asked ye a question, slave! Now be quick abou' answerin' it."

"I don't think you're stupid, Captain," Salvia babbled under a barrage of kicks. Even with this answer, the kicks did not stop. Agia finally stopped when Salvia's pleading was reduced to a cracked, unsustained whisper. The pirate rounded on Heilen.

"I be a havin' a liddle inklin', as ye might be a sain', that ye be a knowin' where th's king be a residin'."

Heilen looked down at her sopping footpaws. "Yes, Captain," she whispered.

"I be a waitin'."

"Somewhere inland, Captain. Somewhere where it would be advantageous to take slaves and keep an army." Agia nodded and grinned, satisfied. She sloshed back over to where Salvia huddled against the hull wall.

She bent down, pressing her face into Salvia's. "I be a thinkin' e'en ye could 'ave come up wid an answer like th't. Maybe a liddle 'unger will be a 'elpin' ye be a rememberin'."

"Please forgive me," sobbed Salvia.

Erober led the soldiers under his command deeper into the trees. He paused as a loud growl emanated behind him. He whirled around and spotted one of the soldiers looking rather sheepish. "Sorry, Captain," he said, holding up a paw. "I'm 'ungry."

Erober glared out at the soldier, hiding his relief that the growl had merely been hunger-related, and did not belong to some other beast lurking in the woodlands. He plopped down on a large rock and gestured that his soldiers could sit as well. They all sighed happily, glad to rest their footpaws.

Their gerbil captain looked up through the canopy of trees at the sun's position. "We'll rest an 'our," he ordered. "You can all eat some of your rations too." Erober scanned the sitting soldiers. "All lieutenants report to me." Three gerbils stood up and made their way over to their captain as the remainder of the soldiers began eating whatever they could find in their ration packs.

"Captain?" all three lieutenants reported when they had successfully navigated the crowd.

He nodded to them. "Now 'ere's the way I see it. 'Is Majesty doesn't expect Spion, Ishmael, or that other slave to ever return to the fortress. 'E doesn't think their stupid enough to return, just to be executed." The lieutenants indicated their understanding. "But 'ere's my food for thought. Spion won't dare return as Spion," Erober said cryptically. The lieutenants gave him blank looks. "Don't you see? 'E's a master of espionage. 'E could just disguise 'imself and return. 'E could easily find a spot to 'ide the other two for awhile."

"So why don't we go and capture them?" piped up one of the lieutenants. Erober grinned.

"My thought exactly. Now, Grausam doesn't know how many squads I brought with me. 'E just expects somebeasts to return with twenty slaves. Leut, do you feel comfortable that your squad could capture those slaves and keep control of them until you get back to the fortress?"

The gerbil Leut shrugged. "It just might take some extra time to round them up. But it should be no problem if I start after this rest."

Erober smiled. "Good, good. Make sure they're nice and 'ealthy; that'll keep 'Is majesty's attention for awhile. Now, my other two lieutenants, we need to recapture Spion."

"Why not all three," asked one of the lieutenants.

"Because, Spion will lead us to the other two. Ishmael and that slave are most likely too noble for their own good. But Spion, 'e'd trade 'is information of their location for amnesty any day."

One of the lieutenants, who had lived in the forest before being recruited into Grausam's army, offered his idea. "I expect they went down to the river. There'd probably be ships they could get passage to the East Coast on, supposing they weren't returning to the fortress right away." Erober looked interested. "There also should be enough freebeasts there for Leut to capture a score of them. And if we find them on the way to the river, there'd be more than enough of us to capture them."

Erober shook his head. "What a fine captain you'd make, mate."

**A/N: **Sorry for an inconsistencies in Agia's and/or any of her sailor's dialect. I'm still trying to work it out, while keeping it understandable. Please review.


	15. Chapter 15

Spion paced along the side of the path he was creating through the woodland, cutting through obstructive foliage with his dirk. Yomi trailed in his path.

"Spion," she said, pushing through some particularly dense underbrush, "I don't exactly look like your slave. My paws aren't even bound."

Spion half-turned for a second, but then continued hacking some dense bushes. "Do you actually think anybeast is following us?" Yomi squinted her dark eyes as she tried to understand Spion, his voice muffled as he attempted to part the bushes. They had proven too difficult to chop.

Yomi glanced swiftly behind her. "You're not exactly hiding our trail very well," she said as she crouched down and crawled through the bushes, following in Spion's wake. She hurried to catch up as Spion ducked under some vines.

"You could cover our tracks, you know," he commented. Yomi cursed at him. "Just saying."

"How much longer are we gonna walk?" Yomi whined, poking Spion in the back. He growled dangerously at her in response.

"There's a tavern a couple hours walk from here. We can stop there tonight."

"_Hours_," Yomi griped.

"Yes, hours," Spion yelled in her face, whirling around. "I wouldn't have taken you along if I thought you were going to complain the entire time."

"I'm going to be queen; you can't talk to me like that!" Spion smacked Yomi full across her face. She gasped, gripping the side of her face with a paw. She tried to whack Spion back, but he just laughed mockingly.

"You know that didn't hurt, _sklave_."

"Don't call me that," Yomi spat.

Ishmael inspected his claws. "What about our deal? There's no way you'll be able to gain the throne on your own."

Tears gleamed in Yomi's eyes. "That's what you think!" she shouted, her voice cracking. Yomi took a shuddering breath, before sprinting back the way they had come. She wriggled under the bushes she and Spion had just come through, and bounded forward. Even with a clearer path then the first time she had traversed the woods, the going was still slow. Her hopes of running were crushed as obstacle after obstacle barred her way.

Spion panted, trying to catch his charge, "Yomi, stop! We do not want to call attention to ourselves." Yomi glanced back, stumbled, but righted herself. She responded to Spion's call by screaming at the top of her lungs.

Paws began thrumming the ground from the other direction when Yomi finally released her scream. Something was yelled in the Wustenrenn language. Yomi pulled up short, not understanding the shouts that were getting closer. Spion crashed into her and pinned Yomi to the ground, using his dirk to keep her there. He shifted a footpaw onto her neck, and drew himself up.

A gerbil bumbled into them. Spion lashed out with his paws before the gerbil could do anything. "Tag," he said, smilingly evilly. He removed his footpaw from Yomi's neck and pulled her to her footpaws. She touched her arms ruefully, wincing as she touched the bruising flesh.

"Spion, what was that for?" she asked angrily.

The short gerbil ignored her. "Wer bist du?" he asked the trembling gerbil in his grip.

"Nietier," the gerbil squeaked out. "Was wollen Sie?"

Yomi shoved her face into Spion's, or rather, _up_ towards his face. "What's going on?" she yelled at him.

He raised his eyebrows as he shoved Yomi away with his free paw. "Nichts." Yomi stomped a foot at the continued use of the foreign language. He looked down at the new gerbil's belt. "Ach, gut." He dropped the gerbil unceremoniously onto the ground. Using his dirk to keep the gerbil from escaping by holding it in his long tail, he took a rope and whip from the gerbil's belt.

He beckoned to Yomi, who was slouching against a tree a couple steps away. With an exaggerated sigh, she dragged herself forward, plopping onto the ground once she was next to Spion. "Stand up," he said, not leaving her a choice by gently pulling her up. He pawed her the rope from the other gerbil's belt. "Tie his paws together."

Yomi crouched in front of the shaking gerbil. She slowly pulled his front paws forward and looped the rope around them. She tied off a knot, pulling the rope tight, but not taut. Spion shook his head, and crouched down by Yomi. His tail moved his dirk over to the gerbil's neck, warning him to stay put.

"Now, Yomi," Spion said. He watched the gerbil for a reaction, but none came. "This _creature_, if I dare even call him that, is our captive. He is at our mercy, and he will think us weak if we show him any." The kneeling and tied gerbil's face was lined, as if he was trying to translate Spion's words.

"So what?" Yomi said, rolling her eyes.

"So, let him know his place." He pointed to the knot. "Tighten that."

"But that'll hurt him!"

"You don't want to hurt gerbil scum?"

"You're a gerbil," Yomi pointed out.

"But not scum," Spion countered.

"Touché." Yomi raised quaking paws, and tightened the knot. She tightened until their captive began to whimper. Both of his paws were limp, very little blood flowing to them.

"That's better, isn't it?" Spion mocked the captive gerbil.

"Was wollen Sie?" he repeated quietly, nearly sobbing.

"I want information." After uttering this, Spion stood up, hauling Yomi to her footpaws as well.

"Ich spreche nur unsere Sprache," the gerbil pleaded.

"Your language barrier is no excuse," said Spion, completely aware of the fact that everything was going over his captive's head. He brandished the whip, but then paused.

Spion pawed the whip to Yomi. "Why don't you try?"

"Flog him?" Yomi asked incredulously.

"How do you expect to control the Clan if you're incapable of punishing noncompliant creatures?" Spion wheedled.

"He's done nothing wrong!" Yomi was juggling the whip from paw to paw, unwilling to touch, let alone use, the weapon of pain that had been wielded against her many times.

Spion took the whip from Yomi. "But look how fun it can be." He cracked the whip hard onto the gerbil's shoulder and down his back. The captive screeched in pain.

"How's that fun?" Yomi asked, horrified. Spion absent-mindedly cracked the tip lightly onto the captive's face again and again as he appraised Yomi.

"The control, my companion, the control."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grausam stood, wearing his freshly polished dress armor. It was much too heavy to actually wear into battle, and was reserved for ceremonies. Grausam watched, dry-eyed, as his son was lowered into the earth by six guards. All of the slaves in attendance, who would be responsible for filling in Ishmael's grave, knelt with their heads on the ground.

Virt, who was situated behind Grausam and to his left, followed the descent of the casket. No words were spoken, as Grausam had ordered; Ishmael was interred in silence. After a dull _thud_, Virt signaled to the slaves to begin to fill in the grave. The various creatures complied, using only their paws to push the warm dirt back into the hole they had dug.

Once the soil had covered Ishmael's casket, Grausam turned and left abruptly. Virt dismissed his captains, leaving only a few guards to watch the slaves. Virt drifted after Grausam, still in a state of shock. Under his own armor, he still wore his bloodstained clothes. They were now dried, thick and disgusting.

Virt passed in the Great Hall, watching various guards stream by and slaves dart about under paw. He grabbed one of the passing slaves, "Bring me some clean clothes."

"Y-yes, Zweite," the slave whimpered, stomach churning, knowing this added task would make him late for the others. Virt floated on, up, around, finally reaching his chambers. He was about to go inside, but pulled back from the doorknob.

Turning slowly, he made his way up to Grausam's chambers. Not bothering to knock, he creaked the door open and peered in. The large gerbil had his head in his paws, shaking slightly. Virt softly shut the door and went to Grausam. Grausam flinched visibly as Virt placed a paw on his back. "I'm sorry for your loss, Your Majesty."

The King of the Wustenrenn Clan looked up, eyes bleary and unfocused. "They're both gone! My wife and my son. Dead!" Grausam suddenly stood up decisively and Virt had to skip out of the way to avoid being crashed into. "The slaves must be punished for this!" Grausam stormed towards the door, muttering what he would do to his captives, when Virt impulsively stopped him.

"What good would punish all your slavebeasts do? It would only increase their inefficiency," Virt said reasonably.

Grausam swiveled around. "It will make me feel better!" the gerbil defended. He tried to start for the door, but Virt tried to reason with him again.

"What if we focused on hurting them a different way? That mousebabe is still missing. And I have a way to find him!"

Grausam paused this time. "I'm listening," he responded tentatively.

"Well, last night, before Ishmael-when Ishmael was coming to his chambers, he was using the secret passageways, and he didn't put his keys away once he was in the chambers. Which suggest that he was going to find the mousebabe somewhere off the passageways." Grausam nodded slowly. "Plus," Virt added, "I've been having the mousebabe's mother tortured after she injured me," he waved his right paw. "If we bring her along, she'll be too worn down to hide her emotions. If she smells or hears her son, she'll show some kind of reaction."

Grausam smiled slightly. "Lead on, Zweite." The large gerbil followed his second-in-command, down into what the previous corsairs called the "bilges" of the fortress. The pair passed by the normal cells and went down an extra flight of stairs. At the bottom, down a short hallway, was a single cell.

Virt took a key from the hook, and unlocked the padlock and pushed back a few deadbolts as well. He pulled the door outwards. Torchlight fell on the crumpled body of a mousewife, chained to the floor. She moaned as Virt entered, but did not give any other indication that she knew of his presence. He walked until he stood over her. "Get up," he ordered.

Hefra tried to reply through cracked lips, but nothing came out. She tried to push herself up, but her trembling arms gave way. Virt, even with his sadistic nature, could see it was physically impossible for Hefra to get up on her own. He unlocked her chains and dragged her from the cell. Once out of the dark cell and into the flickering torchlight, both gerbils saw the countless welts and bruises that covered the mousewife's body. Blood was caked all over her once-brown fur. Her right eye was swollen shut and oozing a pussy substance.

Grausam asked Virt sarcastically, "Think you tortured her enough?" Virt smiled modestly.

"I merely ordered her torture, Your Majesty." He picked up Hefra, after watching her collapse as she tried to stand. He whispered in her ear, "I'm sure things will go quite pleasantly for Firedew, _if_ we find your son."

Hefra moaned, which Virt felt more than heard. He walked next to Grausam, leading the way, but not being disrespectful by going ahead. They traveled through the fortress up to Virt's chambers. A slave was pacing anxiously, gnawing at his lip. Virt did not even bother to reprimand him for any of the things he was doing "wrong" but merely grabbed the clean tunic out of his paws and shoved him out.

Virt dropped Hefra onto the floor, who was so exhausted she did not make a sound. The gerbil stripped off his armor and dirty tunic, both of which he dropped onto the bloody floor, and slid into a clean one. Even though blood still matted his fur in some places, Virt felt, and looked, much cleaner. Picking Hefra back up, he used his own set of keys to open the door that led to the passageways.

The two gerbils paused at the top of the stairs, listening and waiting. Moments later, a shriek rent the air. Both gerbils took off running down the stairs. Finally, they reached the insides of the dungeons. Shrieks were all around them now, as slaves were punished outside the walls that hid Grausam and Virt, along with Hefra.

Virt's face fell, but Grausam tapped a claw against his lips. He took Virt's keys and opened the door out into the dungeons. Virt made as if to follow, but Grausam shook his head. "Just give me the slave." Virt furrowed his eyebrows, but obediently pawed Hefra to Grausam.

Grausam stepped out into the corridor that led up and down the dungeon's cells. He dragged Hefra along, not caring that she was nearly unconscious. The large gerbil paused outside of a cell from which no screams or yells were issuing. Grausam pulled a key off the wall and unlocked the door. An otter, who bore no more injuries than the typical slave, sat chained to the wall. He glared up at Grausam.

"Have ye come to break me?"

Grausam raised his eyebrows and plopped Hefra down on the floor. "As a matter of fact, I am. Lucky guess, slave."

"It won't work. I won't give into the pain." The otter tipped his head back as Grausam walked over to him.

"A, you would eventually, which one of my guards shall prove later. B, _you _won't be the one in pain." Grausam gestured idly behind him at Hefra. The otter jauntily cocked an eyebrow.

"Ye still won't break me."

Grausam dragged Hefra forward. She struggled to lift her head and to make eye contact with the otter. Her bleeding lips parted, "Please," she rasped. The otter's rebellious look flickered as he fought within himself.

"What do ye want?" Hefra's head collapsed back onto the floor.

"Is there any cell with more than one creature in it?" The otter hesitated.

"This is on your head, slave." Grausam stomped as hard as he could on Hefra's shoulder. There was a sickening crack as the mousewife's right shoulder was dislocated. Both the otter and gerbil could hear Hefra's silent yell as air rushed out of her.

Grausam was raising his footpaw above Hefra's other shoulder when the otter yelled, "Stop!"

"Faster than expected, weakling."

"I'm not weak!" the otter protested hotly. Grausam flipped Hefra over with his footpaw and began to press down on her throat. Her breathing became thick and abrupt. "Stop!" he finally screamed. "Stop hurting her!" he yelled again as Grausam kept pressing on Hefra's throat.

This time Grausam relented, but left his footpaw resting lightly on Hefra. He looked at the otter, silently prompting him to answer the question. The otter hung his brown head. "None of the cells had two creatures in them." Grausam removed his footpaw from Hefra, and just when the otter began to look hopeful, began to kick the mousewife roughly in her side and stomach. She barely even made a sound as her bruises and fractured ribs were pounded remorselessly.

The otter shouted, "Please, stop, hurting her! I heard there were multiple creatures in the cell at the end of the corridor.

Grausam stopped mid-kick and stumbled as he was thrown off balance. "Virt, get in here," he said quietly.

The gerbil peered in. "Your Majesty?"

"How _dare_ you not notice that the mousebabe was with _it_," he kicked Hefra, "in its cell?" Grausam's voice crescendoed to a shriek.

Virt trembled. "Majesty, I told you that-"

"I don't want excuses. Just bring me that mousebabe. NOW!"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Right away, Your Majesty." Virt sprinted away.

"Now," hissed Grausam as he bent over the otter. "You will pay. Guard!"

"Your Majesty?" asked a guard who entered from the corridor.

"Break this slave. I don't care how you do it. I want to see it when you finish."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the gerbil grinned. He went over to the otter. "We're gonna have fun, aren't we…." The otter shuddered involuntarily. The gerbil guard began to re-chain the otter so his back was exposed.

Virt appeared in the doorway. In his arms he held a small mousebabe, who was whimpering softly. He waved a paw out in Hefra's direction, howling over and over, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" Grausam clamped his paws to his ears, while Virt just shook the mousebabe Preis, trying to get him to quiet down.

Finally, Grausam could not take the babe's cries any longer. He stormed over to Virt, wrenched Preis from the gerbil's arms, and thrust him at Hefra. Preis's mother made an effort to sit up, but collapsed back onto the hard sandstone. Preis began to sob even louder and harder, if that was possible, grasping pawfuls of his mother's dirty fur in his paws. He snuggled his face into her warm body as she tried to make comforting sounds to soothe her son.

Grausam crouched down by the mousewife. The otter gasped, "Mouse, look out!"

Hefra froze as cold metal touched her skin. Grausam's dirk blade nicked her skin. "Virt, take its son away." The gerbil Zweite snatched the mousebabe from his mother's side.

Hefra's eyes followed her son longingly. Her lips opened – and froze. For the second time in as many days, death visited Grausam's castle, but this time, this time the large gerbil was laughing.

He laughed as hot red blood poured onto the floor. He laughed as blood spattered onto himself, Virt, Preis, the otter, and the cell walls. He laughed as Preis screamed and struggled. He even laughed as he kicked Hefra's corpse away and her glassy open eyes stared through him.

Grausam smile, satisfied. "Virt, bring that mousebabe to my chambers. But before you do, order a celebratory feast. And bring me a slave to torture." He practically skipped out of the cell. The large gerbil giggled as he climbed the stairs out of the dungeons and up to the ground floor of his fortress.

**A/N: **In case you were wondering, I'm using pawed as the equivelant of handed. I'm also 1/3 of the way through the story.

Please review and tell me how I'm doing!


	16. Chapter 16

Firedew hefted a heavy basket filled with apples onto a quaking, sunburned shoulder. Bracing it against her head with both paws, she carefully made her way into the large stone foyer of the fortress. The cool sandstone chilled her footpaws gently. The young mousemaid bent her head under the gaze of the guards and made her way to a staircase that led down to the kitchens.

Two gerbils guarded the entrance to the staircase. Like countless times before, Firedew stood nervously to one side, head respectfully bent, as the two gerbils pawed through her basket. The official reason for the search was to prevent any bad or bruised fruit from making their way into the kitchen, but rumor had it that Grausam was terrified of being poisoned.

The female guard left off searching the basket, her male companion remaining to finish the task, and approached Firedew. Wordlessly, the mousemaid spread her arms and legs so she too could be searched. It was really quite amazing how much spoiled fruit one could find in a slave's rags. The female gerbil shoved Firedew back towards the basket, which the slave silently picked up by the sides and carried down the stairs.

Firedew dawdled as long as she could, not wanting to have to go back outside and repeat this ritual countless more times. Firedew slowly began to sort the fruit in her basket into smaller piles of specific fruits. Silent kitchen slaves came at intervals to collect the growing piles as other slaves sorted alongside Firedew.

Firedew knew her mother should be beside her right now; they always tried to stay close while working. Her shoulders sagged forward when she realized she had not seen her mother in two days. Three, if one counted today. Or was it?

Every day felt the same to Firedew – wake up, work outside until dusk, work inside a little longer, eat – if she was lucky -, sleep. Repeat. But this was her lot. It was impossible to escape it. _Yomi escaped_, Firedew reminded herself bitterly. She had once been friends with the maid, but now she felt consumed by a burning hatred.

Firedew flinched as a tongue of fire licked her back. She was beyond caring if the guards heard her whimper, saw the pain on her face. The mousemaid knew if she tried to hide it, she would just receive more lashes until she caved and showed her agony.

She dragged her basket painfully onto her other shoulder, rolling the other one to release the tension that had been knotting in it. She was halfway across the kitchens when a commotion broke out on the staircase. Everybeast stopped, or some, like in Firedew's case, dropped, what they were doing to grovel as Zweite Virt appeared on the staircase.

"Everybeast on their paws!" All the slaves warily stood up, glancing furtively at each other, but still keeping their heads bowed. "Somebeast better tell me where Firedew is, or this one gets it." Firedew snapped her head instinctively upwards. Some of the other slaves glanced at her before they could stop themselves.

Preis was wailing hysterically, Virt's arm encircling his neck, dagger at his throat. When he saw Firedew, his cries only grew louder, his little arms stretching towards his sister. Firedew leapt over her basket and tried to wrest Preis from Virt's grasp.

"Let him go!" she screamed. "What has he ever done to you?" She frantically beat her fists against Virt's breastplate.

Virt sighed in a bored voice. "Somebeast get this-," he looked down at Firedew who was still trying to hurt him, "-_thing_ off me." Two guards at the bottom of the stairs seized Firedew and hauled her off their Zweite. They bound her paws behind her back, holding her arms tightly in their paws as she struggled to get to her brother.

Virt went ahead of the two guards dragging Firedew bodily along. She was yelling at Virt, though nobeast was really paying any attention to what she was saying. Finally, one the guards could stand it no longer. He whacked her solidly about the head, and she fell silent.

The group reached Grausam's chambers after several minutes of walking, dragging, and carrying. The large gerbil king was grinning as he sat in a comfortable armchair. Virt bowed respectfully to Grausam. "Your Majesty, I 'ave brought you the mousebabe, as requested, and I thought it would be quite entertaining for you to torture 'is sister."

Grausam tapped his claws against one another, and grinned at Virt. "You have done well, Zweite. Would you like to stay and watch this?"

"It would be an 'onor, Your Majesty."

"Very good. Guards, return to your duties." The two gerbils dropped Firedew's arms, saluted, and left.

"Now, let's get down to business, shall we?" Grausam motioned to Virt, who handed Preis to Grausam. "What's your name?"

Firedew fought mentally for a moment, but then decided it would be of no consequence. "Firedew," she answered angrily. She tried to spit on Grausam's footpaws, but only succeed in having spittle drip down her chin. Both Grausam and Virt laughed uproariously at this.

"So, you must be his sister?"

"Aye, and if you harm one hair on his head-"

"You'll what, slave?" Grausam taunted. "You're in no position to threaten me." He smirked at where Firedew knelt on the floor, arms twisted behind her back. Nobeast held her by force, but both Virt and Grausam were armed, provided she tried to attack either one of them.

Firedew slumped. It was useless, and she knew it. Her lips trembled. "What do you want?" Grausam stood up and padded over to Firedew, cradling Preis surprisingly gently in his arms. She attempted a glare, but her face was slowly paling. Her eyes kept flickering from Grausam's face to Preis's.

"Well," Grausam drawled, dragging the tension out with every syllable, "I _had_ wanted your brother for something, but now, I don't." He took another step towards Firedew. "Now I want both of you."

Firedew drew back slightly. Grausam drew his dagger, and held it above Preis's heart. "I doubt your precious little brother here would understand why he died if you so nobly refused me."

Preis looked at his sister with wide eyes. "Fwido?' he asked in his squeaky infant voice.

Firedew's black eyes filled with tears that slid down her face unchecked. Her gaunt frame shook with sobs. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just don't hurt him."

"I'm glad you see it my way, slave." He handed Preis back to Virt. "I couldn't tell you yet what I need you for, no. That'd just take all the fun out of it." Firedew quivered as Grausam stroked his whiskers reflectively. "But if you return to your normal duties, you'll tell all your little pals, and that'd take all the fun out of it, too. I might as well just have you serve me personally until I put you to your use."

Firedew choked down bile in her throat. Salvia had been Grausam's last full-time personal slave, and she had become a wreck. She had become more than the broken soul or empty shell most tortured slaves became – she had reached the point where pain was welcomed, just so she would feel something in the empty void. Firedew realized Grausam had been speaking to her, but the mousemaid had been too possessed with thoughts of her old friend to hear.

All she could notice was Grausam beginning to unfurl his whip. He paused for a few seconds, and instead, after putting his whip back in his belt, re-drew the dagger he had been using to threaten Preis with. He approached Firedew, who was panting heavily. He walked behind the mousemaid, chuckling. "I can't have my personal slave running out without following any of my rules."

Firedew could tell she was beginning to hyperventilate as the room spun in circles. Whips were one thing, but she could not stand the thought of being slashed or stabbed. The cold metal touched the fur on her calf, sliding coolly down to her left footpaw. Grausam jammed the point into one of the ball of tendons beneath her toes.

Firedew screamed wordlessly. She fell onto her side, writhing. When she thought she had screamed herself out, when Grausam made another slash into her footpaw. Through her yells, she heard Grausam addressing her quietly. "Now, slave, that should teach you to not use my title when speaking to me." He crouched down by her head and lifted it in an almost fatherly way. He took the dagger and drew a squiggling line down from Firedew's muzzle to the bottom of her chin. "And hopefully this will remind you to speak only when spoken to."

Firedew could hardly think through the anguish on either end of her body. "Have you learned, slave, or do I need to reinforce it a little?" Grausam looked expectantly at Firedew, who was struggling to open her lips.

Great Dark Forest, did it hurt. Once her lips parted, blood began to rush into her mouth. She choked and spluttered, and raising herself to her knees, she spit out the blood. The room twisted erratically under her shaking form, and she vomited everywhere. Firedew blushed with shame, aware of the two gerbils watching her.

Grausam hovered over her. He kicked her sharply in the small of her back. Firedew sprawled in her own blood and horrid-smelling puke. "You pathetic weakling," he roared at her. "You can't even stand a little punishment. If you think _that's_ torture, you're sorely mistaken. Just wait until you make another mistake." Firedew flinched at Grausam's words, the words tearing her up as much mentally as the knife had done physically.

"Just let me die, Dark Forest, just let me die," Firedew pleaded in a whisper.

Grausam began to stomp on Firedew's back and limbs. "You're not worth death!" he screamed. "Slaves aren't worth anything. They're worth nothing! D'you hear me? _Nothing_!" Firedew felt like every bone in her body was being lit on fire, even after Grausam stopped torturing her. Her eyes closed as she fell into an exhausted sleep, filled with nightmares of her master.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Salvia stumbled as she was lead onto the deck of the _Elend_. Spots danced in front her eyes, which she was forced to close against the bright hot glare of the sun. Her legs quivered like jelly and her arms shook slightly, even as she wrapped them around herself. Salvia tried taking deep breaths, but nothing destroyed the ball of fear in the pit of her stomach.

The rat Captain Agia was leaning nonchalantly against the railing with her arms folded across her chest. The large sailor who had been flogging Salvia the previous day let go of her when they reached the Captain. Salvia automatically sank to her knees, not just out of respect – it was extremely painful and nearly impossible for her to support her own body weight.

"'Ello, slave." Salvia fought with all her self-control to keep from just lying down on the deck to rest her pounding head. "'Ungry?"

Salvia did not say anything for a few moments, but then registered vaguely that she had just been asked a question. "Yes, Captain," she said hoarsely. Her throat felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper along it.

Agia smiled. "I do be a belivin' th't the punishment is a workin'." She began to walk towards her cabin, motioning for the large sailor to bring Salvia with. The young maid tried to support herself with her own footpaws, but they gave way easily. She resolved to letting herself be dragged across the deck, even as splinters poked themselves into her flesh.

Agia kicked the door open with her boot. Heilen looked up from where she was laying Agia's lunch on the table. The pygmy shrew gasped and ran over to Salvia. Salvia blinked, still unable to see clearly. Heilen felt Salvia's neck, then angrily turned to Agia. "She needs rest! She's running a fever." Agia just smirked at Heilen.

"Somebeast remove this shrew and flog her." The large sailor quite happily obliged. Salvia collapsed onto her knees again. At least the air was cooler in the cabin. Agia picked up a bowl of food from her table and crouched down in front of Salvia. "Now, liddle slave, I might be a liddle merciful, iffen ye beg. I be a knowin' ye want this food."

Salvia ignored the fiery stinging of the splinters and looked at the bowl. It was filled with meat. Salvia did not want to know what kind, doubtless she would not recognize the taste, having been vegetarian all her life. She knew it would be wrong to eat it, but she was unbearably hungry, and who knew how long it would be before Agia fed her again? Her lips cracked and began to bleed as she moaned softly, throat throbbing, "Please, Master, I promise I'll be good. Just please let me have something to eat. Please, I'll do anything." Salvia lowered her head submissively onto the floor. All she wanted was the food – she knew how dangerous her last three words were, but she meant them every bit.

Agia smiled cruelly, her sharp incisors showing. "Anything?"

"Anything, Master," Salvia affirmed with a gasp.

"Well, th'n, I be a thinkin' ye'll be a gettin' some food all right. _After _ye be a tellin' me how to find that old master o' yers."

Tears hit the floor. Salvia was nearly sick as she was reminded that this voyage would end in more pain and torture than she had ever experienced before. With her one ear, she could hear Heilen screaming, and shuddered, knowing her screams would be much louder and longer once Grausam had his paws on her.

Salvia looked back at the meat. It smelled horrible, though Salvia guessed it was a good smell for meat, but her stomach felt shriveled as it ached. She swallowed hard. "I don't know what the place is called for sure." Agia began to slowly inch the meat away from Salvia. "But I think it's called the River Moss; I read about it in a book." Agia stopped moving the bowl, but kept her paw on it. Salvia swallowed again and rubbed her throat slowly with a paw. The maid winced as a splinter was driven deeper into her paw. "That's where I last was with them."

Agia stood up, leaving the meat in front of Salvia. She sighed. "I be a guessin' ye 'ave earned th't." If Salvia had not been so exhausted she would have noticed how Agia's mouth was quivering as she struggled to keep a straight face. The slave tentatively reached a paw into the bowl of meat. Even if it was cooked, it felt slimy and disgusting on her skin.

She sniffed it, but finally gave in when he stomach growled loudly. Using both paws, Salvia stuffed herself with the food. After several mouthfuls, the bowl was empty – and Agia began to laugh evilly. Salvia nearly looked up, but caught herself in time.

Then she realized why Agia had given her something to eat. The slave had not been paying enough attention to notice the red spice completely covering it. Even if Salvia had noticed it, she just would have assumed that was how that kind of meat was prepared correctly.

Salvia felt like she had just swallowed fire. Tears dripped down her cheeks, as she weakly fanned her mouth. Her tongue burned as well, along with her already sore throat. Agia could not remember having this much fun in seasons. "D'ye be a wantin' some water, slave?" she asked.

"Please, Master," Salvia gasped.

"Th't's too bad, th'n." Agia picked up the large flagon of water on the table. Putting it to her lips when Salvia glanced upwards, she drained it in one gulp. Clapping her paws in satisfaction, she yelled out, "Guard!"

"Yes, Captain?" A sailor peered around the slightly open door.

Agia waved a paw absent-mindedly. "Be a puttin' th's 'un ta good use."

Salvia whimpered as she was dragged away, wishing for the life of her she had but a drop of water. Agia waited another minute, before stepping back out onto deck herself.

The rat captain bounded up another short ladder to where a sailor was standing at the wheel of the ship. The sailor kept one paw on the wheel and saluted with the other. "Captain."

Agia smiled. "Be a settin' a course fer the Ri'er Moss. We'll be a payin' our good frien' Matrose a liddle visit."

"Very good, Captain." The sailor made a few adjustments while Agia ran forward to the bowsprit. She clung fearlessly to a taut rope and watched the land speed by on her right. The wind ruffled her fur. She glanced back and gestured to a slave, who hurriedly came and knelt.

"Be a bringin' me some water, slave. I am a liddle thirsty!"


End file.
